Bourbon and Vodka: A Chekov x Joanna McCoy Love Story
by trellyasigma
Summary: Everyone said it wouldn't work. They were too different. Even a friendship would be impossible. But Joanna McCoy and Pavel Chekov don't care. Besides, they're more similar than people think. A love story full of angst, depression, torture, mentions of child abuse, lots of bourbon... and lots of vodka. (Happy ending, I promise. I suck at descriptions, sorry.)
1. Prologue: Joanna on the Enterprise

PROLOGUE

When Joanna McCoy was ten years old, she was allowed by her mother to visit her daddy on the Enterprise for two whole days. At first she was nervous, but as soon as she beamed on board and saw the crowd of people waiting for her, Jo knew she was going to have a great time.

"Daddy!" She giggled, running off of the platform and into her daddy's waiting arms. "I missed ya." She muttered, face squashed into his blue shirt.

"Hey, baby girl. Your momma treatin' ya good?" Her daddy's accent was thicker when she was here in real life, she noticed.

"Yeah, Daddy." She lied. "But Mr. Clay's not as good as you." Clay was her momma's new husband. Jo didn't like him very much. He didn't hug her like her daddy did. He only hit her.

"Of course he's not!" Her daddy scoffed. "Damn wife-stealing—" Jo stuck her small finger on his lips. "Yeah, I know." He said a bit grumpily. "Language."

Laughter filled the room to see the loud-mouthed doctor humbled by his daughter. "Well, JoJoBear, I see you've still got it!" Said a familiar voice.

Jo's eyes widened. "Uncle Jim!" She hadn't seen him since her daddy was in his second year at the Academy, when she was eight.

He ruffled her hair affectionately and laughed. "You're the only one I know who can tame Bones' potty mouth, JoJo." Joanna knew this was true. She'd heard her daddy's swearing her entire life, and never stopped trying to clean his mouth up a bit. If SHE wasn't allowed to swear, she reasoned, HE shouldn't be allowed either.

Jim didn't hug her, but then again, he never did. He wasn't the type of person who hugged very often, but he was far from unaffectionate. Their relationship was primarily words and pats on the head, and Jo was happy with that.

Then her father and Uncle Jim began to introduce her to his friends, whom he called the "command crew." First was a tall young man with pale skin, black hair, and pointy ears. 'A Vulcan', she thought. "This is Mr. Spock, Jo." Said Jim cheerfully. "Say hello."

"Hello, Mr. Spock." She said seriously. "I heard that Vulcan was destroyed a few months ago— was it very sad?"

The tall man appeared to be not emotionally involved with her words, but she saw a flash of astonishment pass through his eyes. "Yes, Miss McCoy, it was very... sad." He said.

"Oh. I hope ya stop bein' sad soon! It's okay, ya don't need to hide it— I can tell." She said with a frown. Her father hushed her quickly and introduced her to the next person, a dark skinned and dark haired woman who was very beautiful. Her name was Nyota Uhura, apparently. "Hi, Miss Nyota. You're very pretty. Do ya think one day I'll be as pretty as you?" This was something that worried Jo of late. Her aunts on her daddy's side weren't very pretty, and Jo tended to take after her daddy in his looks, with her dark hair and eyes and stubborn personality, and Jo wanted to be pretty like her momma while still looking like her daddy.

Miss Nyota smiled at her. "Thank you, Joanna. I'm sure you'll be very beautiful when you grow up— you're already quite pretty."

Jo flushed at the compliment, and decided she quite liked the woman. Next in the proverbial line was a fidgety Scotsman. Jo liked Scottish accents, but couldn't imitate one to save her life. "M' name's Scott, Montgomery Scott, but ye can call me—"

She cut him off. "Monty. I'll call ya Monty." The man stopped mid-word, looking oddly disappointed at something. "Is this your ship, Mr. Monty?" She asked cheerfully.

Pride glowed on his face. "Well, technic'lly she's te Cap'n's, Jo, but we both know who does all te WORK now, don' we!" Monty said, touching her nose with a long finger and making her giggle.

She decided she quite liked Monty, too. The next man, Mr. Sulu, was nice, but she wasn't too interested in him until he mentioned he could fight with a sword. "Can ya REALLY sword fight, Mr. Sulu? Like the Three Musketeers?" Jo had always loved old Earth literature, especially the old adventure stories.

He grinned widely. "Just like the Three Musketeers. McCoy, you had her read old Earth literature like that? I'm impressed."

Jo pouted. "DADDY didn't make me. I read those books all by myself! Momma doesn't like me reading big books like that. She says it's unnatural. But that doesn't stop me from reading The Lord of the Rings, though, it's my favorite!"

Mr. Sulu looked like he'd met his next best friend in the ten year old. "J. R. R. Tolkien is MY favorite author, too!"

Before they could really begin talking about the books, Jim and her daddy dragged her away to meet the last person in the room. At first she was pouting, but once she laid her eyes on the young man, she decided that she wouldn't mind meeting him after all. He was young, with a mass of golden curls on his head, wearing a golden shirt like Uncle Jim and Mr. Sulu, with big shy eyes and a big shy smile.

"JoJo, this is Pavel Chekov. He's our Navigator. He's only seventeen years old." Jim said proudly, ruffling the young man's hair just as he did to Joanna.

Her eyes widened as she did a quick calculation. "You got into the Academy when you were thirteen? That's so cool!" She gasped.

He smiled. "Eet vas nozzing. I'm sure you are wery smart, too." He had a Russian accent, Jo realized. Her hero-worship mindset quickly shifted into crush mode. Her cheeks flushed crimson.

"I'm not as smart as you, Mr. Pavel..." She mumbled. Her daddy's eyes narrowed at her uncharacteristic shyness, and her Uncle Jim looked highly amused.

Chekov scoffed. "Vat ten-year-old reads Lord of Ze Reengs? You are wery smart. I zhink you vill geet accepted at thirteen, too. Vat do you vant to be vhen you grow up?"

She smiled broadly. "I want to be a nurse, like Miss Christine Chapel. My daddy says she's the best of the best, and that she's helped him save lots of people's lives. Do ya think I should do that, Mr. Pavel?"

He smiled gently at her, but not as though she were a child. He smiled at her as though she were his equal. "Da. I zhink you should." 

**Hey, Author here!**

 **How do you like the first chapter of my story? I know, I know, nobody actually READS Star Trek Fic anymore... but that won't stop me! Anyway, if anyone ever ends up reading this, I would love to hear of your existence. And I sadly do not own any of these people, so please don't think I do. Also, don't sue me. Yes, it's short, but it IS the Prologue. Longer chapters to be uploaded almost immediately after this one, so yeah.**

 **Trellya**


	2. Chapter One: Acceptance to the Academy

CHAPTER ONE

It quickly became Joanna's mission to become accepted into StarFleet before she turned eighteen. She knew quickly she wouldn't be accepted at _thirteen_ — she wasn't the same caliber of genius Pavel was— but by God she would be accepted before eighteen if it killed her.

Of course, the fact she really was a genius did help. She'd been reading deep philosophical texts and doctor books since she was six years old, starting just before her father left. She was bumped up one grade, then two. Her friends abandoned her, saying she was a freak, but that was okay with Jo. She had her father, and Uncle Jim, and Nyota and Spock and Hikaru and Monty and Pavel.

Her mother refused to let Joanna live with her father or see him very often, at least in person, so she had to improvise. She called her father once a week, on Sunday. She called Uncle Jim on Monday, Nyota on Tuesday, Spock on Wednesday (he was primarily her tutor, or so he claimed), Hikaru on Thursday, Monty on Friday, and on Saturday— which quickly became her favorite day of the week— she called Pavel Chekov.

Pavel had quickly become her best friend. Their Saturday calls often took hours of the evenings, sharing childhood memories and the adventures of that week. Occasionally they would only talk a few minutes before a red alert would go off, and Jo would barely have time to tell him to stay safe before he'd hang up.

This happened with the others too, but what did she expect? They lived on the Enterprise, they were in the middle of a five year mission! (The whole thing with Kahn had happened when she was twelve. When she saw her Uncle Jim in a coma, she had never been so scared. A year later, when she was thirteen, they'd left for the five year mission.)

And now, at sixteen years old, she was holding a letter from a certain Academy that she'd been longing to be accepted into since she was ten years old. She had waited to open it all day until her call with Pavel, so now she was preparing to open it

With shaking hands, Jo opened the letter (a real paper letter, you only got real paper anymore for important documents) and unfolded it. "Dear Ms. McCoy." She read aloud. "We are pleased to tell ya that you have been ACCEPTED TO STARFLEET ACADEMY?! Pavel, I DID IT!" She squealed, and Jo wished she could hug him.

He grinned at her. "Zhat's great, Jo! Een four years, you'll be on ze Eenterprise vith me!"

Jo felt her ridiculous smile fade. "Yeah. I hope so. I couldn't bear it if we were on different ships! I mean, if I wanted to be super far away from you guys, I wouldn't have applied for the scholarship!" She said.

"Really, Jo." Pavel said sincerely. "You deserwe zees. You hawe vorked so hard, ees about time you got ze revard."

Jo felt her grin return. "Yeah. I guess so. Thanks, Pav. You're my best friend, ya know that, right? I mean, Uhura and Monty are great, but..."

"I'm more handsome. And more eenteleegent." Pavel said with a wink.

Joanna laughed gaily, then quickly covered her mouth so she wouldn't wake up her mother or Clay. "Well, ya ARE more intelligent. But, I think Monty's pretty dashing."

He wrinkled his nose. "Scotty?"

Jo let a smile twist her lips. "Well, I like balding older men, ya know."

Chekov pouted for a moment. "Vell, eef you do not vant me to stay on zee line..." He pretended to move to turn it off.

"No, no!" She laughed. "Monty's a dirty old cat compared to you!"

Pavel laughed, then paused. "A dirty old cat? Vhat haf you against cats?"

Jo wrinkled her nose. "Mom's got a cat. A great big old stinky ugly cat that hates my guts. He scratches me all the time." She held up a hand to the camera, showing him the scratches there. "See? This is from this mornin'."

"Vhat a veecious beast!" He laughed.

Jo laughed back, then sighed. "I should probably get to bed. It's almost midnight." She moaned in annoyance. "I wish I could stop time and not have to stop talkin' to ya."

Pavel smiled sadly. "I vish you could do zat too."

"Goodnight, Pav." Jo said sadly.

He beamed at her. "Goodnight, Jo."

And then with a click the screen went black. Joanna groaned and flopped down on her bed. She hated it when she had to wait before her next call.

"I'm goin' to _Starfleet Academy!_ " She whispered to herself elatedly. "And besides, in two years, the Enterprise will be done with her mission, and I'll see Pav again! And Dad, and Uhura, and Uncle Jim, and Spock, and Scotty! And then I won't have to go years without seein' 'em ever again."

With those comforting words still in her mind, Jo turned over and fell fast asleep.

***

During the days between Jo's call with Pavel and her arrival at the Academy for the beginning of its school year, a great many things had to happen.

First she had to inform her principal that she would no longer have to attend high school there for the remainder of her senior year (she had been moved up two grades so she was a senior at barely sixteen), and that she was going to attend Starfleet Academy to learn how to be a nurse on a starship. None of the students cared— she didn't have any friends there, they thought she was a freak— so she wasn't really that upset about leaving.

Her mother had taken it hard, but of course she would. Jo, on the other hand, didn't really give a damn about leaving her possessive and verbally abusive mother Jocelyn and physically abusive stepfather Clay in Georgia as she pursued her dream. She'd always preferred her father anyway.

She then had to inform her father that she would be going to the Academy at only sixteen years old. It wasn't as uncommon now as it was when Pavel was at the Academy, but still a shock for her father. When she told him she was going to study to be a nurse, so she could work with him on the Enterprise, his eyes actually got teary.

"Darlin'," he said. " I know you'll be great. How'd your mother take it?"

Jo grinned at him, and he didn't realize most of her next words were blatant lies. Even as she spoke she could feel the fresh bruises on her arms. "Oh, she blew 'er top. Burst into tears, demanded that Clay not let me go, the usual. Honestly, I'm _glad_ to leave her and that goddamned _Clay_ at last."

Her father quirked up an eyebrow. "Language, young lady." She had given up trying to tame his tongue years ago, once she realized the usefulness of swearing.

Jo scoffed. "Like that's the worst you've heard me say."

"True." He admitted. "When does the school year start?"

"Next Thursday." Jo said. The Academy school year was really weirdly timed, primarily going through the summer so the winter was their big break. "I leave for San Francisco this Friday, though. So I have time to get settled, and all that." She remained silent for a while, thinking.

Her father frowned, noticing the heavy silence. "What is it, sweetie? Something bothering you?"

Jo knew her mother would never have noticed or cared, and a flush of affection for her dad ran through her. "I just... Do ya think anybody'll like me? I'm a sixteen year old girl that looks like she should be in middle school! What if my roommate hates me? What if—"

"Sweetie, when I got on the shuttle to go to the Academy, I figured no one would want to be my friend. I was a grumpy divorced doctor with an alcohol problem. I was about as unlikable as its possible to get. But then on the shuttle I met Jim. And we've been friends ever since." Her father said gently.

Joanna frowned. She'd heard the story countless times. "So?"

Exasperation crossed his features for a moment. " _So_ , maybe you'll find a friend where ya least expect it."


	3. Chapter Two: Tara Theresa Trenton

CHAPTER TWO

Jo breathed heavily as she prepared to step on the shuttle. Rather like her father, Jo had a deathly fear of flying. Unlike her father, she didn't actually feel _sick_ while on a shuttle. She just felt claustrophobic and uncomfortable and panicky. So when the young woman burst into the shuttle arguing furiously with a group of young men, Jo didn't even look up.

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Carl! Get the _hell_ out of here before I bash your face in!" Spat the woman, her hair red and her eyes a bright blue. She was very short compared to the rather well-built men, but they all looked frightened of her.

Their leader, however, didn't seem so fazed. "Honestly, Tara, I said I was sorry! I was drunk, it didn't mean anything... I love you, not some random sl—" he broke off as the red haired woman, Tara, kneed him in the crotch.

His buddies began to crack their knuckles, and Jo was watching now as the battle unfolded. "Now listen to me, you bastard. You and your cronies will GET OUT. You didn't sign up, I did. You cheated on the wrong girl, Carl Jameson." She spat.

He turned to leave, but she put a hand on his shoulder. Confused, he turned back. "Come on, Tara, what now?"

"Oh, just a parting gift." She said sweetly. Then the woman with the red hair and blue eyes that everyone was staring at punched the man in the face. Jo heard his nose crack, and the man howled.

They practically ran out of the shuttle. The woman plopped down in the only open seat, which was next to Jo, who was staring at the young woman with a mixture of awe and fear.

"Sorry about that." She said with a sigh. "My boyfriend— well, ex-boyfriend, I guess— is a real asshole. He's probably been cheating on me for months, but I just caught him at it last night. He sought me out, tried to say sorry. I'm not one for accepting apologies that don't mean shit. Anyway, I'm Tara. Tara Theresa Trenton. WHY my parents went for the triple T initials, I don't know."

Jo stared. "Um, I'm Joanna McCoy. I'm sixteen years old, here on scholarship, and I hate ridin' in shuttles. Also, yes, the famous Dr. McCoy of the Enterprise IS my dad."

Tara's eyes widened. She obviously hasn't expected for the girl in front of her to be the daughter of the famous CMO. "Leonard McCoy is your father? That's awesome! What're you studying? I'm gonna be in Engineering."

"Nursing. I take after my dad. He's scared of flying too." Jo said, looking around the shuttle and feeling the fear make her feel dizzy. "God, I hate shuttles."

Tara laughed. "You'll be fine. I'll protect you." She looked as though she'd just remembered something. "Wait. You said Joanna McCoy?" Jo nodded and watched as she dug through the pockets on her brown leather jacket. Eventually she pulled out a PADD and pulled up a piece of information. "Ah-ha! Look— 'Ms. Trenton, your roommate is Ms. Joanna McCoy."

"So I just watched my new roommate take out 'er cheatin' asshole of a boyfriend?" Jo said with a drawl.

Tara grinned slowly, as though Jo had just said the most exciting thing in the world. "Jo," she said, "I think this is the start to a great friendship."

***

By the time the two got to their room, they had become fast friends. Joanna figured this was what it had been like for her dad and Jim— that instant connection, the realization that this person would become your best friend.

Of course, the matter of Pavel was weighing in the back of her mind. He was her current best friend, and had been for years. If Tara was going to become her best friend, then what would become of Pavel? Would it be possible to have two best friends? Jo wasn't sure.

But she pushed that behind her as she focused on unpacking her things and helping Tara hang some decorations on the bare walls of their dorm. It was a pleasant distraction from her worries, and Jo found that she and Tara had very similar tastes in design, which helped when decorating.

By the time Jo had time to think, she realized that it was 9:30 pm on a Saturday, and that it was time for her to call Pavel.

"Hey, Pav!" She said as soon as his picture came up on the screen.

"Hey, Jo." Said Pavel with a slightly strained smile. She noticed, but knew that it was too early in their conversation to address it yet. Better to let him pretend nothing was wrong at first.

"So," she began excitedly. "Guess where I am?!"

He pretended to not know. "Vell... Zhe Academy?"

"Uh-huh!" She chirped. "I've already unpacked, and my roommate's awesome!" Jo looked around, and realized that Tara was presently in their bathroom washing her face. "One sec. _TARA!_ THERE'S SOMEONE I WANT YA TO MEET!" She turned back to Pavel with a grimace. "She's comin'."

A few seconds later, Tara Trenton jogged out of the bathroom, looking spectacularly annoyed. "What? Can't they wait for a few minutes?" Then he noticed the famous face on the screen. "Oh my God, is that Pavel Chekov? The youngest Navigator in StarFleet history?!"

"Hello." He said, waving awkwardly. Tara stared, then went back to the bathroom, blushing furiously and muttering about brushing her teeth.

Jo spoke now, turning his attention back to her. "I met 'er on the shuttle. She was punchin' 'er boyfriend in the face. He was a cheater." She explained.

Chekov's face darkened. "Ach, American men. Een Russia, ze men do not—"

Jo quickly covered up his imminent rant. "Yes, yes. It's very true, about Russian men, and all. Anyway, anythin' interestin' happen today?"

Pavel hesitated, and Joanna narrowed her eyes. "Pav." She said in a voice that clearly warned him to tell her, and tell her now.

"I vent down on avay mission today." He admitted.

Jo smiled. She knew how much he loved going on the surfaces of the exotic planets he visited. Then she saw the haunted look in his eyes, and the smile faded. "But?"

"I ended up een captivity, separated from zhe rest of zhe team. Zhey heet me..." Pavel pulled down the collar of his golden shirt, revealing a nasty group of purple and black bruises. "So Doctor McCoy locked me een my quarters so I von't go to my shift tomorrow."

Jo's eyes shone with worry. "Well, my dad knows what he's doin'. You're not too badly injured?" She remembered the time he'd gotten mortally wounded and had been in a coma during the time of Jo's usual Saturday call. Her father had answered and told her the situation, before hanging up when it became clear to the man that his daughter was about to burst into tears. He'd been too busy to comfort her, and she understood that.

"No, I em fine. Just a beet sore, a beet bruised. But Jo... Een order to escape I had to keell someone." His voice was deathly quiet.

Ah. That explained it. Pavel was a gentle soul, and any injury he caused a person affected him greatly. Jo liked that about him. It made him so beautifully human, mortal and innocent and full of guilt. "Pav..."

"I stebbed heem. Vith hees own knife. My hands vere cowered een blood, Jo. My hands vere cowered een hees blood." His voice was shaking, and he was staring at his hands as though he could still see them stained crimson. Jo felt her heart break.

She swallowed. "Pav." She said gently. "Has Uncle Jim killed someone?" A nod. "Has Spock?" A nod. "What about my dad?" Another nod. "And Sulu and Scotty, have they?" More nods. He looked as though he didn't trust himself to speak. "Are they still good people?" Nothing.

"Pavel, are they still good people?" She repeated herself, not trying to sound angry or pushy. She just needed to help him.

He cleared his throat. "Da."

"Pav, I talk to all of those people on a weekly basis. Every time I have to comfort Jim or my dad or Hikaru or Scotty because they were forced to kill someone. They hate themselves as much as you, Pav. But I help 'em through it. My daddy says I'm gonna be a damn good PTSD nurse thanks to them, and he's right." Her voice had taken on its soothing but piercing tone of voice, one that made you relax but want to listen to it at the same time.

"Zhank you, Jo." Pavel whispered, a ghost of a smile on his face.

She smirked triumphantly. Whenever he told her thank you, she'd succeeded in cheering him up. "You're welcome, my Russian friend. Now go sleep. I don' care what time it is in space, take a nap. You'll feel better after."

He smiled at her again, the same shy smile he'd given her when she was ten all those years ago. "Goodbye, Jo."

"Goodbye, Pav."

The screen went dark, and a moment later Tara came out of the bathroom, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry about that. But he's a lot more adorable than I imagined him, you know? And his accent is _so_ cute!"

Jo smiled a bit falsely. She hadn't wanted her new friend to develop a crush on Pav. She'd just wanted her to meet him. "Yeah, it's adorable. Ya done with the bathroom? I still haven't brushed my teeth, I can sense my imminent bad breath and yellow teeth."

A few minutes later, the two of them were sitting in their respective beds, serene smiles on their faces. "Tara?" Jo asked suddenly. "What if they hate me? I'm younger than almost everyone here. I'm barely sixteen! They hated me in high school, called me a freak. What if here it's worse?"

Tara sighed. "I won't let them bother you if I'm around, Jo. I promise you that."

"Ya won't always be in my classes, Tara." She whispered, realizing in that moment that no matter how mature she acted she was still only a child. A vulnerable child who had only two friends close to her age and who at that moment wanted her father so badly it hurt. "I wish my dad were here."

Tara laughed wryly. "So do I, Jo. So do I."

Hearing the painful memories behind the simple words, Joanna sat up on her elbow. "What is it? And don' pretend it's nothin'." She said, cutting off the other girl's words. "I'm good at this kinda stuff. My daddy says I'm a natural."

Tara raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "My dad was a member of StarFleet. Worked in Engineering. One day... He didn't come back home."

"How old were ya?" She asked.

Her friend grimaced. "I was ten years old. The news came on my birthday." Then she sighed angrily. "It's been ten years since he died, Jo. I'm twenty years old— I'm not a kid anymore! But I still cry sometimes... I can hardly remember him, dammit! So why do I miss him so much?"

Jo considered this carefully, choosing her words so they would have the maximum impact. "When I was eight, my Grandma McCoy, who I love more than my own mother, died. They said it was cancer. Who dies of cancer anymore? And I was once more stuck with my momma who could barely stand me and with a daddy not allowed to see me. Even now, at sixteen, it still hurts like hell to think that I won't make cookies with her anymore."

Tara frowned. "That doesn't answer my question."

"It still hurts for me because I still love my grandma. It still hurts for you because of the same reason. Ya can't make yourself stop lovin' your daddy, any more than I can force myself to stop lovin' my grandma. You're not weak. You're _human_." Jo said gently, smiling reassuringly at her friend.

Tara looked like someone had slapped her in the face. When it became clear her friend wasn't going to comment on what she'd said, Jo turned her back to the red haired young woman and closed her eyes.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **Yeah, I figured I'd upload the first four-five chapters today, because what the hell, you know?**

 **(Besides, I know it's hard to get a sense of a fix with only like one crappy prologue uploaded.)**

 **So, yeah. I still do not own them. EXCEPT FOR TARA AND (sort of) JOANNA.**

 **It's complicated.**

 **Whatever. I got another chapter to upload.**

 **Trellya**


	4. Chapter Three:The Great Shuttle Incident

CHAPTER THREE

It turned out that Tara had only two out of eight classes in common with Jo, excluding lunch. The first, Basic Survival Training, took place with all first-year Cadets in one class, so it was no shock they were together. The second, Basic Flight Training, was split into three groups of first-year Cadets. Jo despised the class. But more on that later.

Since those two classes were the first of the day, Jo had to fend for herself for the other six classes. The next three weren't that bad— just her nursing classes. But after lunch with Tara, who always asked her if anyone had bothered her so far, was the class that Jo hated even more than Basic Flight Training (BFT): Hand-to-Hand Combat 101.

Jo's Hand-to-Hand class consisted of the most athletic members of the first years. Unfortunately, those same people were also the ones that hated her the most. They hated that she was a prodigy, that she was only sixteen to their 18 or 19 or 20.

Also, she was completely clueless when it came to fighting. Her Uncle Jim had taught her how to punch, but she'd been only ten years old, and her father had nearly blown a blood vessel when he found out. She'd punched a few girls that had said something bad about Uncle Jim or her father, but that was it.

So far, she'd gotten two black eyes, two cracked ribs, a sprained wrist, and more bruises than she could count. The school year had only been going on for twelve days. Tara had asked at first, but Jo insisted she didn't need protection. It was her own problem that she'd never learned to fight. She could learn on her own.

One of her trainers, who insisted he simply be called Daniels, began to give her private sessions. Jo learned to fight, and she learned how to fight well. Not only could she punch pretty damn hard, she could take down Daniels in three minutes flat.

At first, she still pretended to be hopeless at fighting, just for the heck of it. Once one of the bastards gave her a mild concussion, though, Joanna McCoy had finally had enough. It was time to fight back.

After two weeks of fights where she kicked all of their asses solidly, they left her alone... In Hand-to-Hand, at least. Everywhere else she wasn't allowed to fight them, so Jo was forced to ignore their insults and threats.

One person in particular bothered her the most. His name was Thomas Maxwell. Maxwell was a young man training to be a StarFleet doctor. Jo thought he was too violent to be a doctor, but then again, her father was one of the most violent people she'd ever met, and he was an amazing doctor. Maxwell was bitter because he had barely been accepted at age 22, and had had to retake all of his first year classes, while Joanna was only 16 and clearly highly intelligent.

His insults had quickly transformed into threats. "Hey, McCoy," he'd snarl. "You better stop being so smart in class, or I'll put my knowledge of the weak points of the human body to use." Jo always ignored him, as per usual, not thinking he would have the balls to actually attack her.

She changed her mind after one disastrous incident during BFT. Tara was sick that day, back in their dorm room with a nasty stomach virus, so Jo was all alone in the class she feared.

Tara was the only one that could stop her hyperventilating while on a shuttle, stop her phobia from crippling her and making her mind shut down into its most primal state. No Tara Trenton was bad news. But once she learned who her replacement partner was for that day, she knew that things were about to get much, much worse.

"Cadet McCoy!" Cried her flight instructor.

She walked over. "Yes, sir."

"Your partner for today will be Cadet Maxwell. I trust this will not be a problem?" Her instructor's tone of voice made it clear that if she did have a problem she was to keep it to herself.

Jo swallowed thickly, fear working its way up her throat. "No, sir."

"Good." Then he stalked away, shoulders tense.

When Jo turned around, Thomas Maxwell was already there, something sinister glinting deep in his eyes. "You gonna cry, McCoy? Are you gonna cry now that TRENTON isn't here to protect you?"

"No, Maxwell." She spat, anger replacing the fear in an instant. "Are YOU gonna cry when ya crash the simulator while I kick your ass?" She had never been so determined to succeed in BFT before.

He laughed. "You? You can't even walk INTO a shuttle without breaking into a sweat!" He paused. "I heard once that your DADDY, Big Mister CMO McCoy? I heard that he's even more of a BABY on a shuttle than YOU are!"

Jo heard a ringing in her ears as her blood boiled. It was one thing for him to insult her— she'd been insulted by her peers and her mother all her life. It was another thing ENTIRELY to insult her father. He was the one person who'd never done anything wrong to her in her short life.

Luckily, before she punched him, they were sent off to their simulator assignments.

Only this time, you went inside alone.

Previously, there had always been your partner in with you, to give you tips and help if things got out of control. But now, you were in there all by yourself. Which meant no one would be in the simulation to help her if she hyperventilated.

Maxwell, of course, made her go first. She still wanted to punch him for the comment he'd made about her father earlier, but the fact she was going to have to fly a shuttle BY HERSELF was making her want to die. Or burst into tears. Whichever happened first.

"CADETS!" Bellowed the flight instructor. "ENTER YOUR SIMULATIONS!"

With shaking legs, Jo entered the shuttle. This would be a lot easier if the simulation shuttle didn't look EXACTLY like a real one. Instead of the whole thing feeling like a video game, it felt so real that she still felt the familiar spike of terror as soon as she walked in.

The takeoff went smoothly. She didn't hit a single shuttle or satellite on the way out, despite her sweaty palms and shallow breaths. Once she broke orbit, however, was when everything went to hell.

Suddenly, the stabilizer on the simulation, which kept everything feeling realistic but in control, seemed to break. The shuttle began shaking violently, making Jo's stomach, which normally was fine on a shuttle despite her phobia, began to churn threateningly.

A few seconds after that, the controls stopped working. Her mild anxiety suddenly morphed into a full-out bout of hyperventilation and panic. Jo's vision blurred, her lungs gasped for air but didn't draw in any breath, and she was paralyzed with fear.

The shaking grew worse, even though her simulation shuttle on screen had crashed into the space station and exploded. The large red words reading 'SHUTTLE TERMINATED' seemed to burn into her mind.

Jo didn't realize she was screaming until she noticed her throat was sore. Moments after that she realized the whole thing had filled with smoke. She was going to die. She was going to die in a freak simulation shuttle accident and there was no one to save her... She was never going to see Pavel again... Jim... Her father...

Her hyperventilating and the smoke in her lungs eventually got to Jo's head. Her terror was complete, her lungs starved for oxygen as she breathed but drew in no air, and she was actually relieved when everything slowly faded into black.

When Jo woke up, she smelled the reassuring scent of antiseptic. Antiseptic meant she was in the infirmary. The infirmary meant she wasn't dead. That meant that someone had taken her out of the damned shuttle before she asphyxiated.

The next thing she was aware of was that someone was holding her hand as they slept. As her world shifted into sharper focus, she realized that person to be— her father?

"Daddy?" She said quietly, blinking her eyes slowly in confusion.

Instantly Leonard McCoy jerked awake. "Jo! You okay, darlin'? They let me beam out from the Enterprise to make sure you were alright."

She sat up with some difficulty. "What happened?"

He frowned. "You don' remember?"

Jo thought. Flashes of memory, filled with terror and smoke and shaking, filled her mind. "It's all a blur. I was too frightened to think straight, once the shakin' started." She admitted.

Her father sighed, pressing his hands over his face. "Of all the things you inherit from me, you get my fear of flying."

"Of shuttles." She corrected. "I'm not scared of the starships. Too big to feel the jerkin', most a the time."

Her dad looked at her then, and she knew he was going to tell her what happened. "Do ya know a cadet named Thomas Maxwell?"

Jo blinked. "Yeah. He hates me, I think. And he insulted ya before I went on the shuttle, I almost socked 'im in the nose. Why?"

The corners of McCoy's mouth quirked up, but quickly fell back down. "He's been thrown from the Academy for sabotaging Federation equipment and attempting to harm a fellow Cadet."

"Ya mean..." Jo said, her head spinning.

"I mean that he tried to kill ya, Jo. And he damn near succeeded. You were covered in burns, had a few nasty bumps and bruises from being thrown all over the cabin of that damn shuttle, and weren't breathin'. Another minute before they broke down the doors..." His voice cracked, something that normally only happened when something happened to his baby girl.

She state quiet for a second, absorbing the news. Thomas Maxwell had tried to kill her. To KILL her. She had nearly died in a shuttle SIMULATION. The simulations were supposed to be safe, for God's sake! She felt fine now, but knew any bruises or burns would have been repaired by now by the dermal regenerator.

"How long have I been out?" She finally asked.

He sighed. "Two days. I didn't come until the end of the first. Jim decided to get in a day-long firefight with a bunch of asshole Klingons. It took forever for the transporters to get back online."

"Has my friend Tara been here? Tara Trenton?" She asked hopefully.

'Bones' nodded thoughtfully. "There was a girl in here earlier. Red hair, blue eyes. Looked to be around twenty. Said she was your friend, worried about you."

"That's her." Jo said, trying not to sound so excited.

He smirked. "They sent 'er out. Not family, you know. If I were to ask your nurses, though, I'm sure they'd let 'er in."

One long argument between Doctor McCoy and the annoyed nurses later, Tara was bursting through the door. "Don't ever, ever, ever scare me like that again. I'm minding my own business, throwing my guts up in my bathroom because cafeteria food's a bitch, and suddenly someone comes down and tells me that you're in the HOSPITAL!"

Jo winced. "I'm sorry. I couldn't exactly help it. Ya know how I am— once the shaking started, I panicked. Couldn't breathe hardly at all, and the smoke from the fire definitely didn't help."

"That's beside the point!" Tara protested, looking less angry now, but still distressed, her red flushed face matching her fiery hair. "The POINT is that I FAINTED when the guy told me, and I have never fainted before IN MY ENTIRE LIFE, not even after I heard the news that my FATHER had DIED! You do not do that to me! EVER. AGAIN."

Jo's dad looked highly amused at this exchange. "I see ya found your Jim." He said wisely. Jo flushed at the comment, but he continued. "Good. She'll make sure ya stay safe on board, and you'll keep her alive after any accidents."

Jo rolled her eyes. Then a thought occurred to her. "How worried is everyone? Uncle Jim..."

"Jim was THIS close to beaming off with me, but Spock wouldn't let 'im." McCoy demonstrated the small distance between his fingers that illustrated his point. "Course, Spock looked like 'e half wanted to go too, so."

Jo giggled at that.

"And then Scotty was torn between wanting to see ya and wanting to stay with his woman." The woman being the Enterprise, of course. "Uhura and Sulu were acting odd all day, on edge and ready for everythin' to go to hell. More hostile than usual. And Pavel..." He hesitated. "Well, ya know Chekov. He locked himself in his room and cried himself to sleep. I'm gonna check on him when I get back, actually."

Jo considered for a moment. Poor Pavel. He'd always been a delicate soul, and learning that one of his best friends (besides Hikaru, of course) was in the hospital because some jealous Cadet tried to KILL her would be too much for him to bear. "Do ya think I could call him?"

Leonard looked up, shocked. "Well, I suppose. I don't know if he'll be there, though. Might be his shift."

"It's worth a shot." Jo pleaded, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. She watched her father's hesitation melt away. He nodded, showing his consent. She grinned and reached for her PADD on the side table next to her.

Before she could type in the number, however, her father stopped her. "How come your mother isn't here?"

Jo grimaced. "Do you really think I would put HER as my emergency contact? Ya know that I cried myself to sleep when Mom's lawyers won custody of me. No visitation rights— how could ya DO that to a six year old?"

They sighed sadly, both remembering the terrible time that was full of lawyers, yelling, and tears on Joanna's part. Then she shook her head and pressed the picture of Pavel's face.

After a few seconds of calling, Chekov's face appeared on the screen. "Jo! I heard zat you vere hurt! Are you alright? I hawe been so vorried!"

"Hey, Pav. I'm fine— they got me out in time. Ya haven't been neglecting our duties, have ya Pavel?" She scolded gently.

A guilty expression crossed his face, looking a little bit sheepish. "I—"

"It's fine, Pav." She said with a smile. "My dad and Tara are here, too. It's like a party!"

He smirked a little bit. "Vell, a party zat ees een hospital."

Jo stuck out her tongue at him. "That's irrelevant. The POINT is, I'm fine and ya aren't allowed to worry 'bout me anymore."

"That's MY job." Tara added from the other side of the room. Jo glanced over and saw she was leaning against the window, a smirk on her face and a twinkle in her eyes.

Pavel hesitated, then nodded. "Ok. Can I go to my sheeft now?"

Jo grinned widely. "Go ahead, Pav. I know you'll do great."

"Bye, Doctor McCoy. Bye, Tara." He paused, and smiled shyly. "Bye, Jo."

"Bye, Pav." He hung up. Jo looked at her father, who was sitting with an odd expression on his face. "What?"

Her father smirked. "Oh, I was just thinking that if Tara's your Jim, then Chekov must be your boyf—" he cut off abruptly as Jo shrieked in indignation and smacked him on the arm. "Just kidding, darlin', so stop smackin' me!" He paused, then sighed. "I really need to get back to the Enterprise, Jo. Ya know that, right?"

She nodded sadly. She hadn't seen her father in person since the incident with Khan several years ago. And even then she'd literally had to run away from home to come see Uncle Jim when he was in the coma. Her mother had screamed for hours when she showed up on her doorstep two weeks later. Then she's called Clay out... Jo shook off the memory.

"It's okay, Daddy." She said calmly, taking his hand and squeezing it. "In a couple of years you'll be back, and once ya leave again, I'll be going with ya."

To her shock, Jo saw tears glimmering in Leonard McCoy's eyes. She hadn't meant to make him cry. "Just be careful, Joey." He said, using the nickname he'd called her by before the divorce all those years ago. Once the lawyers came, the nickname had faded into oblivion, nearly forgotten. "Ya know how much I hate hearin' when ya get hurt."

"I could remove your status as my emergency contact." Jo teased. "Replace ya with Mom and Clay."

He shuddered. "Jesus, no. Don't do that. This is the only legal excuse I have to come see ya. But," he said seriously, "that DOESN'T mean you're allowed to get hurt all the time! Your Uncle Jim needs me on the Enterprise to fix his stupidity."

Jo smiled. "Then go and fix it. I'll be fine. Tara'll look after me."

Her father seemed to blink back fresh tears, then walked out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jo realized she hadn't even hugged him, and desperately wished she could do so.

HEY, AUTHOR HERE!  
SO, YEAH, CHAPTER THREE! THE GREAT SHUTTLE SIMULATOR INCIDENT. STILL DON'T OWN THEM.  
IF YOU EXIST, LET ME KNOW.  
TRELLYA 


	5. Chapter Four: A Terrible Childhood

CHAPTER FOUR

As a sort of 'sorry you nearly died during a simulation', the Academy decided she didn't need to complete Basic Flight Training. Jo was relieved. She could fly a shuttle fine, of course. It was just that she had tried to go in one after the incident and had passed out from the terror.

It was also made very, _very_ clear that anyone who picked on Jo would face the combined wrath of her Tara and the Enterprise crew. Apparently her father had called in an official complaint.

So Jo's life at the Academy went from hell to heaven in a week. She aced all her classes, was the top of her class (something Pavel was thrilled about, since he had been the top of his in his time), and she and Tara became best friends.

Just before the beginning of her third year at the Academy, the Enterprise completed her five year mission and returned home. There was an enormous parade, and Jo's popularity skyrocketed once everyone realized that she was the daughter of the famous CMO Dr. Leonard McCoy.

Of course, her only _real_ friend while at school was Tara. Her so-called 'popularity' only existed because of her father, and only meant that she didn't get bullied anymore. Jo didn't care if she was liked by everyone or not.

Besides, she was eighteen now, she wasn't a child. Granted, most everyone else was twenty or older by their third year, but Pavel had been only sixteen in his third year at the Academy.

Also, the Enterprise was back home now, and would be for two years— just long enough for Jo to graduate and get assigned on the ship she'd been longing to be assigned to since she was ten.

It had been exhilarating, getting to physically interact with several people that she had only seen in person twice— once at ten, on the Enterprise, and once at twelve when she'd run away to San Francisco. Monty, Nyota, Hikaru, Spock... Pavel. She was seeing Pav in person again for the first time in six years. He'd been only nineteen at the time.

Now he was twenty-five, and quite good-looking. Not that Jo admired him from a distance when no one was looking, or anything. And it _certainly_ wasn't true that the slight crush on him she'd had when she was ten had come back. Nope, Pavel Chekov was simply a friend. A very good-looking friend.

Jo, Pavel, and Tara became an inseparable group. They went to bars together— Jo ordering Coke because even though she was eighteen she most definitely didn't look twenty-one— and hung out at their apartment all the time. Tara and Jo had gotten their own apartment after their first year at the Academy, deciding they wanted more space and a bigger bathroom. Once the Enterprise landed, Pavel moved in with them. She and Tara had to share a room so Pav didn't have to share with one of them, but they were cool with it. It was only Pavel, and the two girls were best friends.

One day at the bar, Jo was feeling particularly depressed. Her mother had called and whipped Jo with her vicious words. Tara and Pavel weren't with her— she'd left all by herself, wanting to be alone.

The barkeeper noticed her sullen face and slipped her a bourbon on rocks. How the man knew her favorite drink (she used to sneak her daddy's best bourbon before the divorce), she didn't know. "It's on me, sweetie." He said. "You may not be twenty-one, but you look like you need it. And like you can hold your liquor."

Jo thanked him and sipped her drink miserably, considering the bitch she was forced to call her mother. Before she could take another sip, Pavel slipped in the chair beside her. "Where's Tara?" Jo drawled, her Southern accent becoming far more pronounced with the alcohol.

"She ees busy." He said. "Vat happened to bring you here, drinking alone?"

Joanna smirked lazily. She hadn't had a drink since high school, when she stole one of Clay's many bottles and took sips of it when the bullying at school became too much. "Jocelyn Elizabeth Thomas called."

"Your mozher?" He said, confused. Jo knew why. She'd never said much about her mother. At least, nothing that went deeper than her shallow insults.

Jo knew that she'd have to explain everything now, explain the darker part of her childhood she'd kept a secret. "When I was very young, I loved my father more. Still do. My mother hated that, and the fact I was so similar to the person she was growin' to despise didn't help. So she stopped encouragin' me. Started criticizin'. Yellin'. All the time. After the divorce, after Daddy wasn't there to protect me, well, it got worse."

Chekov looked confused still. She sighed and drank the rest of her bourbon. Before she could even ask, the barkeeper handed her another one. Jo nodded in appreciation and continued.

"My mom got complete custody of me. So I was forbidden from seein' the parent I actually loved ever again. A year later, my Grandma McCoy died, which meant that even SHE couldn't protect me now. For a while it was a lot of the same. Yellin'. Insults. A few threatened slaps. But no hittin'." Jo's face darkened. "And then she married that bastard Clay."

"Clay Thomas is the perfect pocket husband. He does everything Jocelyn says, when she says it. He would murder someone for her. It's disgustin'." Jo explained. She could sense the question on Pavel's lips before they even opened. "How is that important? Jocelyn prided herself on being a good mother. That meant not hittin' your child. But with a husband that didn't mind if he hit said child around _for_ ya... Well, there was no stopping her now."

Pavel looked horrified. "Zhat men—"

"He beat me, yeah. Whenever I was 'silly' or 'stupid' or 'not enough like a girl', Mom would scream at me until she was ready to explode, then would set Clay on me." Jo felt tears sting in her eyes. She took another drink quickly and continued, her hands shaking in front of her.

"So, I stopped bein' myself." She said, slight hysteria in her voice. "I stopped readin' my big books that I liked because she thought it was unnatural, I stopped cryin' when Clay hit me, I stopped talkin' out of turn. From the age of eight and a half to ten, I became Jocelyn's perfect little girl. I was a robot— a slave. She was brainwashin' me, Pavel. I was startin' to ENJOY being the perfect little girl."

Jo watched her hands shaking, and heard the anger in her voice. "I remember telling my mother one night that she was RIGHT about my dad, and that I... And that I wanted to be her perfect daughter forever." She laughed. "And two weeks later my mother decided I was ready to see my father. She told me that the two days were, and I quote— to 'cut ties and say goodbye for good.' _And I was HAPPY about it._ "

Pavel looked shocked. Jo ignored him, she couldn't stop now. "But once I saw him sitting there as I beamed on board, surrounded by you guys— I felt like I came to my senses, you know? I think that you guys saved my life."

She drained her second drink and refused the one the barkeeper offered her. Her head was starting to buzz and she didn't want to get drunk. Instead she tilted the glass, watching the ice tilt around. "When I came back... I was my old self. I— I still have the old scars from when she realized that I loved my father again. I started makin' the video calls to all of ya guys, to make sure I never became her slave again."

Pavel breathed in heavily. "And zhen vhen you vere tvelve?"

Her lips twitched into a smirk. "Clay beat me particularly badly that day. He'd hit me in the face, so I couldn't call anyone. They'd ask questions I'd get punished for answerin'. But I'd heard from my dad that Uncle Jim was in a coma, so I ran away. The shuttle men saw the bruise on my face and let me on board, hid me away so no one would know. For three weeks I was with ya guys, and I was happy."

"I remember zat bruise." Pavel said, looking horrified. "You said you got eet from ze PE at your school!"

Jo laughed wearily, digging her palms into her eyes. She wished she could go back in time and not have started this conversation. "Well, I couldn't tell you. If I told Dad he'd be furious, and he'd feel guilt he hadn't figured it out before. He's a doctor, for God's sake! When I got back..." She shuddered involuntarily. "I wasn't at school for two more weeks after my three week break, it was so bad."

"Aiye." Pavel murmured.

"Once I got the letter from StarFleet, I knew I was saved. Mom tried to stop me, tried to beat me back into submission like she did when I was nine. But I left anyway. And she hasn't contacted me since, until today."

Pavel paused, sensing that they were getting to the real issue now. Jo was strong, and had learned how to deal with the hitting. It didn't bother her anymore, somehow. At least not that she showed. But this was something different.

"Mom has cancer." Jo finally said.

Ah.

"And she wants me to come back to take care of her, quit my education." She added, closing her eyes. Pavel paled a bit.

"A wodka please." Pavel said quickly. He needed a drink at this point. He drained the shot quickly and savored the burn, not even grimacing. He'd been drinking since he was five, after all.

"I told her no, of course, there is NO WAY I am goin' to Georgia where she and Clay are and take care of her. I'll lose you and Tara and Dad and Uncle Jim and EVERYONE, and... And I think that I'd become that robot again, Pavel." Her voice was low and desperate, pleading with him to understand, to see her way. "I can't do that, but she was so ANGRY..."

"Vat deed she say?" He whispered.

Jo hiccuped as a mix of the bourbon, crying, and laughter combined. "She said that I was not her daughter if I didn't come. That I was dead to her, that if she ever saw me again there'd be nothin' to stop her from beating me to death herself. She threatened to kill me, Pav. My own MOTHER!"

Chekov was silent. He didn't know how to respond to this. He'd never been beaten by his mother, and his father only in his grief, and only on a rare occasion had he been captured and beaten for information over the five year mission. What was he supposed to tell this eighteen year old girl for whom he cared deeply?

"So I came here and got a drink. Sue me. But please," she said, tone changing to frantic and hurried. "Don't tell Tara. Don't tell Dad, or Uncle Jim, or anybody. Please. It would break them to know, and I can't let that happen."

"Jo..." Pavel said gently, tears in his eyes. "You know I cen't promise zhat."

Her face fell. She swallowed thickly and looked down. "I do know. I do. I just—" her voice cracked. "I act like I'm so strong, all the time, but I still have nightmares, Pav. I dream of Mom screaming and Clay hitting me. And I feel like I should be able to make it go away, but I can't." And then, finally, Joanna McCoy burst into tears.

Pavel didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He simple hugged her until the tears stopped, then joined her on the short walk back to their apartment. He knew that the next day was going to be hell. But he would be helping Jo, so it was worth it.

***

"Oh, hell." McCoy muttered to himself when he received the kid's message.

'Doctor McCoy, I need to meet with you. It's about Joanna. —Chekov'

He dug the palms of his hands into his eyes, feeling the panic deep in his gut. Jo wasn't hurt— the kid would have called him, not send him a cryptic message. There was only one thing Joanna would never give him details about— what happened when she was alone with Jocelyn and Clay.

So he messaged the kid back quickly. 'What time?'

'I can be at your place in ten minutes.' Was the kid's immediate reply.

If McCoy remembered correctly, Jo, Tara, and Pavel lived a good twenty minutes away from where he and Jim had taken up residence. That meant the kid had already started to head over before deciding to give him a heads up. It was really bad, then. The fact he was coming was surprising, as Leonard McCoy frightened Pavel a bit. It wasn't a secret the kid avoided the Med Bay when at all possible. So if he was willingly coming to meet with him (and possibly Jim, if he ever came back from that woman's apartment), things were serious.

When the knock on his door finally came, McCoy found himself waiting for it. He opened the door immediately, nervous and hoping that he was overreacting, that the news wasn't that bad— but then he saw the kid's face, and he knew that he was in for a doozy. "Oh, hell." McCoy said, echoing the words he'd spoken ten minutes earlier.

The kid sat down on his battered sofa, fiddling his fingers and looking terrified. McCoy handed him a beer. The kid wrinkled his nose at it, but took a drink anyway. Bones sipped his own rather unhealthily large glass of bourbon calmly for a few seconds before speaking. "So, ya said this is about Jo?"

" _Da_." Chekov said quietly. Normally he used the Standard versions of yes and no, but when he was upset he was known to relapse a bit into his old language. Sure enough, when he spoke again his accent was a bit thicker than normal. "I came back to ze apartment and found zhat Jo vas not zhere. I know her faworite bar, so I vent zhere."

"Bar?" McCoy spluttered. "She's eighteen!"

Pavel laughed. "She normally does not drink zhere, Meester McCoy. She ees smart, she drinks cola. Last night, howewer, vas deeferent. She vas drinking bourbon."

McCoy glanced at his own glass in his hands. He'd known that Jo used to steal his favorite drink when she thought he wasn't looking. But had she continued once he was gone?

"I esked her vhy, end she said zhat her mozher hed called." He hesitated. "Zhen she begen to tell me about her childhood, Doctor."

McCoy knew next to nothing about his daughter's life in Georgia after the divorce. Jo hadn't wanted to talk about it, and to a point, Bones didn't want to know. After she ran away from home and showed up with a black eye, he HAD questioned, but Jo had assured him everything was fine. McCoy hadn't been so sure.

"Zhey beat her, sir." He said, tears in his eyes, and McCoy felt his world begin to crash down around his ears.

His head spun. "What?" Bones said in shock. "But— why wouldn't she tell me? I could'a..."

"She deed not vant to get punished, sir. She ran avay after he heet her een zhe face, sir." The kid said, a pained look in his eyes. "Jo... She said vhen she got back zhey hurt her so bad she deed not go to school for two more weeks."

A dull fury was rising in him like a sickness. Jocelyn. He understood now. The damn woman wouldn't lay a finger on their daughter herself, oh no. Instead she got herself a puppet husband, someone who was willing to beat a small girl senseless every time Jocelyn thought she deserved it. How the poor girl hadn't snapped was beyond him.

"But sir... Her mozher called to tell Jo zhat she hed cancer, and zhat she vas to come home and care for her."

McCoy felt panic rise in him. "She said no, right? God, I couldn't stand it my kid went back to that abusive bitch again."

Chekov smiled wryly. "She said no. But her mozher said she vas no daughter of hers, end zhat she vould keell Jo eef she saw her again."

Bones cracked his knuckles, fury making his blood hot and his eyes shine. "I'd kill her before the woman laid a finger on my daughter. I know the others will, too."

"Damn right, we will!" Came Jim's voice from the door. McCoy hadn't noticed he had entered the room, but judging by the look on his face, he'd been there for most of their conversation. "Jo's a legal adult now. She can put a restraining order on the LOVELY Jocelyn and make sure she doesn't get near her."

"I must get back. Tara and Jo are waiting." The kid said apologetically. "End... Please do not tell Scotty and Uhura and Hikaru. She let me tell you two, but it would burden them too much." At his and Jim's nods, the kid stood up and walked out the door. Just before he closed it behind him, he stuck his head back in the door. "Goodbye."

As soon as Chekov was gone, McCoy felt Jim sit down heavily on the couch. "Well, Bones, it seems your daughter hasn't had nearly as nice of a childhood as you'd hoped."

A watery chuckle left Leonard's lips— he'd started crying, and he hadn't even noticed. "No shit."

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **Chapter Four! Ouch. Yeah, poor JoJo Bear hasn't had a good childhood.**

 **But now aaaaalllllllll of that is going to change! (Maybe)**

 **As I am still in high school and am a good girl, the only drinking I've seen is in movies and my parents' occasional glass of wine. So if I got something terribly wrong, let me know.**

 **Trellya (And no, Trellya's not my real name. No, I won't tell you what it is.)**

 **Still don't own them. Still would like to hear of your existence.**


	6. Chapter Five: Graduation and Russian Men

**Hey, Author here!**

 **FYI any Russian is in BOLD FONT.**

 **Don't own them. Thank you.**

 **Trellya**

CHAPTER FIVE

By the time Jo was almost ready to graduate from the Academy, she had a serious problem. Her slight crush on Pavel Chekov, one of her two best friends in the entire world, had blossomed into something that was making it really difficult for her to focus.

She was almost twenty now, and he was twenty-seven. Jo knew her father would disapprove of the age difference, and of the whole situation in general. Pavel was one of his good friends. He wouldn't want his beloved daughter to have a crush on one of his best friends— it would be like her father and Tara hitting it off.

(The thought of that made Jo's skin crawl. The twenty-odd years in age difference made the seven between her and Pav look like seven DAYS.)

She no longer had to worry about the situation with her mother— to a point, at least. Jim and her father had worked with her to make sure Jocelyn lost all rights to see her daughter. For the first time in over ten years, Jo was able to see her father all of the time without the looming shadow of her mother and Clay over her.

Jo still had the occasional nightmare. But there was nothing she could do about that. She had been abused for ten years; of course she was going to have nightmares. She'd gotten used to it.

Of course, that didn't make this particular occasion any more pleasant.

In her dream, Jo was twelve again. She had just gotten back from her escapade to San Francisco, and had knocked on the door. Jocelyn opened it with her usual punctuality.

"Joanna?" The woman's beautiful face was twisted with emotion. At first, it was relief. Then that quickly transformed into ice-cold fury. "Where were ya, Joanna Grace?" Her voice was shaking.

Jo felt her confident stance fold in on itself as a familiar spike of fear struck her. "With Dad." She whispered as softly as possible.

"Speak up, girl." She spat.

Jo felt anger, which was a welcome change from the fear bubbling deep in her stomach. "I was with Dad." She snapped loudly, feeling less frightened, less like a child, and more like her father, her brave father who saved lives and loved her.

Jocelyn's eyes narrowed, her lips pursed, and Jo felt the anger melt back into fear. She felt like she had shrunk three inches. "Get in." When she didn't move, her mother let out an honest-to-god snarl. "NOW!"

Joanna stayed put, and found herself wishing that it wasn't 11:30 at night, that her neighbors weren't so respectful and would look outside to stop what was about to happen to her, that her father was here. Especially that her father was here.

"CLAY!" Screamed Jocelyn, her voice now a screech of fury, and Jo knew she would pay for her disobedience, for her running away, for the fact she ran to her father.

Clay appeared in the bright doorway, his silhouette making him seem more terrifying than he actually was. And then time seemed to skip, and Clay was hitting her, bruising her face and making her cry. She could sense the faces peeking out of their neighbors' windows, too scared to intervene.

The dream changed. Clay, with all his rippling muscles, became Jocelyn, her hair and makeup and clothes perfect, her nails long and razor sharp as they dug into Jo's flesh.

 _"YOU BETRAYED ME!"_ She screamed, and the cancer that she had been battling for the past two years seemed to be eating away at her face, turning the woman into a skeleton before her eyes. _"YOU KILLED ME!"_

"No!" Jo gasped to the monster that had been her mother, as the nails on her eaten-away hands turned into three inch long claws that dug into her and made her scream. "NO, NO, _NO!_ "

"I'LL KILL YOU, JOANNA MCCOY. I'LL KILL YA!" The voice was no longer her mother'a but twisted and horrible. Her face was half eaten away, her skin almost all gone but still lined with flesh. Her eyes seemed half rotted away, and her lips were gone. The bare teeth chattered grotesquely.

"You're a dead woman..." The thing that had been Jocelyn hissed, and then the body froze, and the flesh turned to dust, until there was nothing but a skeleton that collapsed onto Jo.

Jo screamed, drowning in the bones of her mother, and she was vaguely aware of a voice shouting her name...

***

"JO!" Pavel shouted again, worry in his tone. He and Tara had been trying to wake her up for several minutes now, ever since she'd started screaming and writhing in her bed.

Suddenly, her eyes opened, and she lashed out at them, terror in her eyes. She hit Chekov in the face ("AIYE!" he shouted), and he could feel his left eye beginning to swell shut already.

"Jo, it's us!" Tara pleaded. "You're safe!"

Slowly, the fear drained away from her face. Her unfocused eyes seemed to get a sense of what had happened. Jo seemed to lock in on the fresh bruise surrounding Pavel's eye. "Oh God. Did I hit ya?" She sounded ashamed, but still terrified after what she had seen.

He shrugged. "Ees no beeg deal." He said in a calming voice. Then Chekov peered at her closely. "Are you alright? You vere screaming."

"I was?"

Tara nodded. "Yeah, scared us half to death. I mean, DAMN girl, what kind of nightmares are you having?" She said it as a slight joke, but judging by the shaky tone Pavel thought she wasn't sure how her friend would react.

She hadn't woken up screaming from a nightmare since the night her mother called. Pavel had had to comfort a sobbing Joanna, not really knowing what to do. He'd never seen her cry before— she was too tough for that. Pavel thought that this nightmare would be a similar one, judging from the phone call Jo had received last night that she wouldn't tell them about.

Jo hesitated, seeming to be lingering on her decision. "It started with the night after I got back from San Francisco. After I ran away. It was nighttime when I got back, that night. Mom..." She choked on the word. "Jocelyn told me to come inside. I didn't. She called Clay outside..." The words looked like they were painful for her to speak. "The neighbors didn't come out. I KNOW they heard them, heard ME, but no one helped me."

"God..." Tara murmured. "And that was it?"

Jo shook her said. "It changed. HE changed. He turned into Jocelyn, and she was beatin' me, and scratchin' me with her fingernails... And then..." Her voice was choked, shaking, and sounded like she wanted to vomit. "Her skin melted away, and her flesh too, and she said that I had killed her, and... that she was going to kill me too. And then she turned into a skeleton, and I was drownin' in her bones... And I woke up."

Pavel stared at the younger girl in front of him. She was normally so strong, never crying or showing any signs of weakness or her dark past. Seeing Jo this shaken, this... scared, made Pavel want to rise up and protect her. Of course, that was ridiculous. Jo could take care of herself. But as he gazed at her, noticing how young and frightened she looked, for the first time he wasn't so sure.

***

Jo was sitting in the auditorium where she was about to graduate, tugging in annoyance at the dark red uniform she was wearing. Star Fleet was military based, so they wore their Cadet uniforms instead of the robes worn at traditional high school and college graduations. Of course, she'd never actually had to wear one.

Today was the last day she would ever have to wear the stupid thing. She had hated wearing it every day for four years, she couldn't wait to change into the more comfortable uniforms worn on the ships themselves.

Jo was jolted from her thoughts as bother name was called. "Mathis, Joseph!" Cried the name. Unlike at high school, where the activities you were involved in and your honors were announced, they said different things. "Joseph is in the Engineering Track, and has been assigned to the USS Farragut. Congratulations, Cadet!"

She felt a stab of dread in her stomach. She knew that her name was about to be called, and that meant hearing for the first time what ship she had been assigned to. What if she wasn't on the Enterprise? Before she could begin to panic, her name was called.

"McCoy, Joanna! Joanna is going to be a nurse in the MedBay. She has been assigned to the USS Enterprise. Congratulations, Cadet!" Said the booming voice. Jo was in a daze. She accepted her diploma, saluted the Admirals, and walked off the stage into the sea of graduated Cadets now turned Ensign.

About ten minutes later, Tara's name was called. "Trenton, Tara! Tara is in the Engineering track. She had been assigned to the USS Enterprise. Congratulations, Cadet!"

Jo pushed her way through the crowd, and tackle-hugged her best friend in pure joy. "Oh my god, Tara, WE DID IT! We BOTH got assigned to the ENTERPRISE!" She was never this squeaky, this girly, but Jo was so relieved that she was able to work with her family and friends that she didn't stop her happy laughter.

As soon as the last Cadet crossed the stage, Jo was hunted down by her father and Jim. Her father had tears in his eyes— was that a wet tissue in his hand?— while Jim ruffled her hair, just like old times. "I'm proud of you, JoJo." He said. "I was twenty seven when I graduated, but you're only twenty! You've done a good job, and I can't wait to be your Captain." He sounded emotional for a second, but blinked away the tears quickly.

Her father grinned. "There'll be two of us to pin Jim into the MedBay when he's been an idiot again. Besides, I know ya could whip his butt in hand-to-hand any day." She knew that this was his way of congratulating her, of telling her he was proud of her and excited to be working with her, without the possibility of crying in front of his daughter.

A few minutes later, Hikaru, Monty, Nyota, and Spock (who had clearly been dragged to the ceremony by a teary eyed Uhura) wandered over. Tara was with them, looking very pleased with herself and a bit put out that none of her family were here to congratulate her.

After several minutes of congratulations, and an oddly choked comment on her success by Spock, Jo finally got out the thought weighing on her mind. "Where's Pavel?"

They hesitated. It was her father who ended up speaking. "He isn't here. Wouldn't tell us WHY he couldn't attend the graduation of one of his best friends, but insisted that he was incapable of coming. Stupid kid." The last words were to himself, but everyone could still hear them.

Jo felt a stab of disappointment and deep betrayal inside her. Why wasn't Pav here? He was always there for her nightmares, for her bouts of irrational anger, and for all the good times, too. How could he not be here? Some of the joy faded, and Jo felt tears sting in the corners of her eyes.

Jim noticed the new, non-happy expression on her face, and frowned. "Hey, JoJo, it's no big deal! You'll see him later, won't you? Besides, in two weeks we're taking off again, and that means you'll see him every day for five years! Plenty of time for revenge."

But Jo couldn't stop feeling that irritating mixture of agreement at his words and the feeling of betrayal. She had talked to him for years about when she graduated from the Academy, how she wanted him to be there, and he WASN'T HERE. She felt larger tears welling in her eyes, and she tried to force them down. She hated crying, and she didn't want to cry on her graduation day in front of all her family and friends.

Her father noticed the sparkling tears in her eyes, and he hugged her tightly. "Hey, darlin', don't cry. We're here, your mother's NOT here, and you're gonna be on the Enterprise with us!" He hesitated, and Jo could see his old father insecurities on his face. Then his face hardened. "Besides, the kid's not gonna get away with this."

Jo held her tears in until everyone except her father and Uncle Jim had left. Then the prickling in her eyes became too much, and Jo threw herself at her father and burst into hysterical sobs.

***

Pavel Chekov, meanwhile, was really in a bit of a situation. He didn't WANT to miss Jo's graduation— quite the opposite. He tried to find some way to make it, to convince him to let him go, but once the threats became more adamant, Pavel knew he had no choice.

After all, he couldn't exactly refuse to see his FATHER, could he?

Andrei Chekov and his son had not parted on good terms when Pavel left home for Star Fleet against the older man's wishes. He understood, to a point— he had only been thirteen years old, and his English was terrible, but he just couldn't stay there any longer.

Pavel's mother had died the day he got his letter from the Academy, and he had told her the news just minutes before she finally lost the battle to the brain tumors eating her mind. She looked him in the eye and told him **"Pasha, you go to the Academy. You go and be who you were meant to be."**

He had looked at her, fear in his eyes, and he spoke. **"Mama, what about Papa? He will not want me to go."**

Natalia Chekov sighed, and he knew she was simply too tired to laugh. **"Pasha... You will find the strength. I know you will."**

And then she blinked, slowly, took another breath that hitched in her throat, and released it even more slowly, as if she were simply breathing a gentle sigh. But Pavel knew. He knew that his mother was dead, and that there was nothing for him in Russia now.

His father had always despised him, calling him 'unnatural' and 'a demon's child'. Andrei had always preferred Pavel's older brother by four years, Piotr. Piotr was a 'normal boy', unlike the 'Imp-boy', Pavel.

Pavel had been hit several times as a boy, when his mother, who was smart as a whip and adored her younger son, was out. Once he'd gotten a black eye, and he'd had to pretend that the bullies at school had gotten to him again. His mother hadn't questioned it, thankfully.

Once his mother was gone for good, however, his home life deteriorated rapidly. Not only did he have boy's five years older than him beating on him most days, he had his father to deal with. The weeks during which Pavel hesitated and finally made preparations to run from Moscow were the worst of his life.

The night he left was the worst. Pavel was about to walk out the door. He had just said a sincere goodbye to Piotr, promising to write him, when his father came in the room. He was holding a mostly empty bottle of vodka in his hands.

Pavel knew. He knew that his father had been drinking for hours, that he was so very, very drunk that he didn't really care if he had a second son anymore. So he prepared to do something he'd never done before— fight back.

Pavel had broken ribs, swollen knuckles, a split lip, and two black eyes by the time he finally spoke to the man he called his father. **"Papa... Please, let me go. Papa... Mama said to let me go."**

Andrei froze, confusion and pain at the mention of his dead wife on his face. **"What?"**

 **"Mama. Before she died, she said I should go to Star Fleet, Papa."** His voice was hoarse with the pain, but he managed to stop the frightened wobbling. **"Please."**

For a moment, he thought he had done it. He hoped that he had stopped the beating. Then the face twisted in fury, and Andrei Chekov screamed at his son. **"YOU THINK I BELIEVE YOU?! A LYING DEMON IMP?!"** An insane glint came to his eye. **"You might have managed to bewitch Natalia, but you won't do the same to me."** A pause. **"So GET OUT!"**

Pavel jumped, confused. He was being allowed to leave? **"GET OUT, YOU DEMON!"** He let out a breath. **"You get out, and you will not contact me or Piotr. You will NOT come back to Moscow, to Russia. For if you do, I will kill you. And I will kill any pathetic friends you have."**

So Pavel Chekov had run from his home, years in his eyes and blood on his face, faced with the fact that he had been essentially disowned at the age of thirteen. The journey to America had been terrible. He was alone, frightened, and bearing the obvious marks of physical abuse. By the time he met Hikaru Sulu, his new roommate, the bruises had mostly faded, and Pavel had put his family begin him.

Until now.

Why, he wondered, did Andrei decide to contact him NOW, after fourteen years of continued silence, except for the occasional card from poor Piotr, who simply wanted his baby brother back.

His father had called him, told him that he was coming to America, to talk to him. See if he had 'finally grown up.' To see if he was NORMAL now, now that he was a minor celebrity. Pavel had begged him to find a different date, but his father had threatened to hurt him if he did not come. He had asked to at least be able to tell his friends why he was unable to attend, but his father refused.

So Pavel came.

They met at what happened to be Chekov's favorite bar, which was unfortunate. Now whenever he came his memories would be marred with the meeting with Andrei. They both ordered several shots of vodka, obviously. Why would they get anything else?

When his father spoke in Russian, it threw Pavel for a loop. He hadn't spoken in his native tongue in conversation for years. Yes, he would mumble under his breath sometimes, and he was very fluent in Russian curses thanks to his father, but it was strange to have an actual CONVERSATION.

 **"So, Pavel."** The fact that the man even called Pavel by his name shocked him. He hadn't heard his name from his father's lips for at least fourteen years, maybe longer. **"You have a steady job now? Friends?"**

 **"Yes, Papa."** He said politely. **"I am the head navigator on the Star Ship Enterprise. I am friends with the pilot, the first officer, the head communications officer, the CMO, the CEO, even the captain of the ship. I have many friends. They look out for me."**

His father smiled. **"Good. You had no friends as a boy— it worried me."** He seemed to juggle something around. **"Any women?"**

Pavel blinked. **"No, Papa. I haven't found the right one yet."** And yet, even as he said it he saw a flash of dark brown hair and bright brown eyes, a gentle smirk as she laughed at him— he cleared his thoughts.

His father was nodding in approval. **"I did not court a single woman before your mother. You will know when you find the right one, son. You are a Chekov— you are my son."**

The words hit Pavel like a blow to the chest. His son. He smiled, and tears burned in his eyes a moment before he cast them away. He could not be weak in front of his father. **"How is Piotr? I have been... Out of touch."** Pavel hadn't talked to his brother for nine years.

Andrei smiled at the mention of his older son. **"Piotr is married now. He has a little girl— Violate. She is three now, I think."** He paused. **"He misses you. He was one of the reasons I wanted to see you. He wanted to know you were doing alright."** Andrei shrugged. **"Then again, I missed you too. We parted on a bad note, and I brooded for four years. Then I heard you were a hero, that you were famous. I realized your Mama had been right. You were meant to be in Star Fleet. But still my pride would not allow me to see you."**

Pavel felt like crying. His father had forgiven him, accepted him. He now called him his son. **"Two years later I heard you were in that disaster with that man— Khan?"** Pavel nodded in confirmation. **"They said you had to take control of Engineering. I did not know you had it in you."** His father admitted. **"I almost called. Asked how you were dealing, if you were hurt. But I couldn't. I couldn't do it."**

Pavel HAD gotten hurt. He had dislocated his arm trying to pull up Scotty and Jim, and had cracked a few ribs being thrown around the ship. He decided not to tell his father that. Especially not how he hid his wounded shoulder for over a week, simply not coming into public, until it got to the point he couldn't even move it. He was lucky to still have full use of the arm, Doctor McCoy had told him.

 **"And then you left on that five year mission, and there was no way any of us could contact you. Even when you came back, I couldn't bring myself to do it."** His father hesitated. **"When I heard your voice over the call... I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry I threatened you, that I made you come here and keep this private. I'm only here for one day, and I— I don't have much time left."**

Pavel's head snapped up in horror, staring at the middle-aged man in shock. No. He couldn't bear to watch his second parent, who had finally learned to love him, die. **"What?"**

A wry smile twisted Andrei's lips. **"I... Have a tumor. Like your mother. Funny, isn't it? I'm dying the same way as her, nearly fifteen years later. The doctors say I have a month. I've arranged other things during these next couple weeks. I couldn't rearrange, because I don't know how long I'll last."**

Pavel felt the grief crash down on him. **"No, you can't die! You can't. Not when I just got you back."** A sob seemed to catch in his throat. **"You can't..."**

And then the two men, one old, one young, were hugging, and Pavel Chekov was sobbing into the arms of his father. He forgot all about Jo, he forgot about the Enterprise and his past with his father, and he simply breathed in the familiar scent of vodka and good quality cigars.

 **"I'm sorry, Pasha."** Andrei Chekov whispered to his son. **"I'm so sorry, and I love you so much. I know that now."**

 **"I love you too, Papa."** He said through his tears.

A few minutes later, the two men left the bar and went their separate ways, knowing full well they would never see each other in person again. Pavel went straight to his, Tara's, and Jo's apartment. He locked himself in his room and began to cry again, shamelessly, throwing furniture around the room, screaming and punching the walls until his knuckles split and there were streaks of blood everywhere.

When Tara showed up, he didn't even come out of his room to congratulate her. She knocked on the door a few minutes later. "Pav, you absolute BASTARD, where were you? Jo sobbed herself to sleep! In front of her father!"

Pavel heard the words, but they didn't quite register. **"GO AWAY."** He spat.

A pause. "What?"

He realized he had spoken in Russian. He didn't even care. All the same, he felt angry again, and resumed his trashing of the bathroom. "GO AVAY GO AVAY, TARA. I CEN'T COME OUT RIGHT NOW." He felt a bit guilt for yelling at her, but grief stabbed him again like a knife, and he screamed in frustration at his uselessness and collapsed in the corner of his room, breaking down into hysterical sobs.

 **Hey, Author here! Again...**

 **Anyway, I would have it in actual Russian but that's a lot of translating, so I just decided to screw that and just bolded it.**

 **Hope you liked this chapter!**

 **Trellya**


	7. Chapter Six: Broken Knuckles

CHAPTER SIX

Jo ended up going to Jim and her father's apartment. Her father had insisted, saying she was in no state to go to her apartment and meet with Chekov. She finally agreed, and so she had slept on the couch. Jim had tried to give her his bed, but she had insisted. It was just for a night. Besides, the couch seemed perfect for her mood.

Uncomfortable, and a bit miserable.

The next day, when she woke up, her father was making her breakfast. "Scrambled?" He called from the tiny kitchen. Jo could smell the cooking bacon and smiled.

"Yes, please." She hesitated. "With cheese on top?" She added hopefully. Her father rolled his eyes and got out the grater. "Thanks, Daddy." Jo said softly. McCoy simply nodded, but Jo could see the emotion in his eyes.

As she ate, her father and Uncle Jim both tried to convince her to stay another night. " _C'mon_ , JoJo, I know you're not okay." Jim argued. "Hell, even _Bones_ knows you're not okay!"

'Bones' looked affronted. "I feel I would know my daughter's emotions better than _you_ , thank ya very much! Judgin' by the fact that she is _my daughter_."

"Oh, please." Jim scoffed. "Since when have you been in tune with the emotions of others?"

Her father looked like he'd been slapped. When he finally spoke, it was in a low growl. "Ya think you're the only one who can tell what Spock's really feeling? Ya think that just because I snarl and don't pretty up my bedside manner, I'm insensitive? I'm a _doctor, goddammit_! My _job_ is to understand people!"

Jim held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, hey, sorry, I didn't mean to offend!"

Jo sighed and stood up. The two continued arguing, the real heat of the argument gone and the banter becoming more false with every word, and they didn't even look up when Jo shouted at them from the door. "Dad, Uncle Jim, I'm goin' home!"

When Jo stepped through the door of her apartment she was relieved to find that Pavel was not there waiting for her. But as soon as she saw the look on Tara's face, that relief dissolved into worry.

"What is it?" She asked.

Tara swallowed. "So when I came home last night I was going to chew him out— you know, for abandoning you. But he was locked in his room, and he wouldn't open it up! He yelled at me in RUSSIAN, Jo! He's never done that before. And then he told me to go away, to let him cry, and I heard all sorts of crashes... Jo, I'm afraid he's hurting himself."

" _Shit_." Jo said in a breathy whisper, before running to Pavel's room. She knew of nothing that could make him be this way. "Pavel." She said to the locked door. "It's Jo. C'mon, let me in!"

Silence.

She huffed. "Pav, I forgive ya for not comin' to graduation."

Silence.

"Pavel... Tara's worried. _I'm_ worried. I don't know what happened, but I can help. Please, Pav, let me in. I'm tryin' to help."

Silence. Then...

A muffled voice, choked with tears. **"Go away. I can deal."**

Jo hesitated. He had spoken in Russian. Pav had taught her quite a bit of Russian, but she couldn't quite get the hang of it. Still, she decided to reply in his native tongue. **"Pavel, I am here. I forgive you. And I will not leave you alone."**

Silence.

Then footsteps, slow and doubtful, trying to decide whether to leave her out there. Then the sound of a lock clicking as its mechanisms retreated into the bowels of the door, and it opened to reveal Pavel Andreivich Chekov.

His face was pale and streaked with tears. There were bruise-like shadows under his eyes from not sleeping all night. He looked miserable. "Your Russian ees _terrible_." He said in his usual thick accented English. He retreated back into his room, and Jo entered.

Joanna gasped. She couldn't help herself.

The room was trashed, everything able to be broken shattered or torn and thrown around the room. Even his pillows and sheets had been destroyed. The walls, along with the white sheets, were stained with something that looked like—

"Blood?" Jo said quietly, fear and disappointment having equal hold in her tone. "Pavel, let me see your hands."

They were swollen and obviously painful. All of his knuckles had split open, leaving open wounds that bled and probably stung like the devil. A few of his fingers were broken, their crooked and limp forms making her wince.

" _Pav_..."

And he snapped. "Vhy cen't you leave me _alone_? Can't you let me accept the fact that my fazher's dying in a month on my own?"

Jo opened her mouth and closed it, like a fish out of water. Oh. Pavel always had been close to his family. But, now that she though about it, wasn't it his _father_ that had abused him, like Jocelyn and Clay had done to _her_? Why was Pav forgiving Andrei after what he'd done to the then thirteen year old?

"He came to see me." Pavel began to explain. "He told me zhat he vas proud of me, zhat I deserved to be here, zhat I vas _destined_ to be een Star Fleet. He said zhat he loved me. End he told me zhat he vas dying. One month, he said. I von't be able to go to my father's _funeral_!" He punched the wall, and hissed as the blood began flowing again and a bone cracked.

Before he could punch again, Jo grabbed his hands. "Pavel, listen to me. I _know_ it hurts. I _know_ that you're angry and confused, and I _know_ you're torn between accepting his apology and still hating him. But _this_ —" she gestured to the torn apart room. "—this way of dealing with your grief, won't do anything for helpin' ya. Believe me, I know."

Pavel stared at her, unconvinced. "How could you _posseebly_ know? Your mozher ees dying, but you hate her."

Jo shook her head. "It's not my mother I'm talkin' about. As far as I'm concerned, that bitch can die alone and painfully. She's _nothing_ to me. I know ya know what it's like to only have one parent truly love ya— your mother, of course. But at least ya got thirteen years with her. As far as I'm concerned, I only got six years with my father as a girl. He loved me and cared for me, and then he was ripped away. I could never see him again, my mother said. I was devastated. So I went to the only other person in Georgia who gave a _damn_ get my well-bein'."

Pavel's eyes lit for a second as he realized who she meant. "Your grandmozher."

"Grandma McCoy." Joanna agreed. "I almost never left her house. When I was seven, she told me she was dying. Can you imagine it? Knowing that when she was gone you would be abandoned for at _least_ ten years with a woman and her bastard of a boyfriend— soon to be husband— who didn't care _less_ if ya lived or died or began to self-harm?"

Pavel stayed quiet. He had had a way out immediately, if he'd wanted to. But he had stayed in his newly abusive home after his mother's death in the hopes that his father would begin to love him. Yes, he'd been only thirteen, but he had been gifted with a way to escape. It was his own fault for not getting out sooner.

"I destroyed so many things that year, got sent to the principal's office so many times... Eventually the school counselor had to talk to me. He told me that hurtin' things would only hurt me, and that would only hurt Grandma more. I cried myself to sleep instead, every night until she finally died. And ya know what happened after _that_." She sounded so bitter, even after all these years.

Pavel stayed silent. Somehow she had made him feel better by letting him know that she understood. That she wasn't going to let him self-destruct. That she CARED, without ever actually letting the words pass her lips.

"Zhank you, Jo." He said. She smiled, and said nothing. Then he paused, becoming aware for the first time of the blood pouring from his knuckles and the pain in his hand. "Cen you feex my hends now?"

She laughed, and ran to get a med kit.

It turned out that Pavel had split all of his knuckles and broken five fingers, three in his right hand, two in his left. Luckily, the dermal and bone regenerators fixed them up before the final check-ups Chekov was to perform on his station before take off.

Jo fixed him up herself, with the regenerators she had built out of pieces of broken ones herself. It was agreed not to tell Jim, McCoy, or the others about the incident. They didn't want to worry anyone. If Spock deduced it on his own, they would simply beg him not to tell the Captain or the CMO.

Pavel, of course, apologized profusely for days. "I promeesed to be at your graduation." He said. "I broke zhat promeese."

"Ya had no choice!" Jo said. "You were goin' to meet your father!"

"Eet ees no excuse." He said firmly.

Of course, Jo had forgiven him as soon as she learned that Pavel was locked in his room potentially hurting himself. But the young man took loyalty and honesty very seriously, and he hated the fact that he'd betrayed his best friend, made her sob and have to spend the night at Jim's and Bones' apartment. She told him every time he apologized that she forgave him days ago.

His last apology was the day they all were sent to the shuttles to board the Enterprise.

Jo was absolutely terrified. She hadn't had to board a shuttle since that asshole Thomas Maxwell had tried to murder her and almost succeeded. The fear was worse than her _father's_ , which had begun to lessen over the years, as she still occasionally had the nightmares of dying inside the simulation shuttle, the realization that she would never see her father or Jim or Pavel ever again.

She hadn't entered a shuttle since her last test to make sure she could potentially fly one in a crisis. She had succeeded _only_ because she was flying a REAL shuttle, and she didn't want to die. As soon as they'd landed safely, Jo had thrown up and burst into tears. That was two years ago.

Her father held her hand reassuringly, sensing her fear. "Daddy, do I have to?" She whispered. "Can't I just be beamed on board?"

He sighed. "Yes, Joey, you have to. I promise I won't let it hurt ya." The fact that he stated something going wrong as inevitable, not 'nothing's going to happen, Joanna Grace', made her somehow feel less fearful. Leonard McCoy would _die_ before willingly letting a shuttle accident harm her.

She nodded and walked on board. Jo plopped into an empty seat, her father beside her, both of them breathing calmly in and out to stop from hyperventilating or throwing up.

Jim sat down in the open seat beside McCoy, a twinkle in his eye. "How's the airsickness, Bones?" He asked.

Her father narrowed his eyes. "Ya know perfectly well I'm fine until we take off, asshole. Now _fuck_ _off_. I'm helpin' Jo calm down."

Jo roared with laughter as Jim spluttered something about 'rude' and 'language.' "Yeah, Dad, language! He's just teasin'."

Her father smirked. "Oh, I know. But it's fun to see him squirm when I swear at him. He's not used to being sworn at by someone who's _not_ an angry but beautiful girl who he left behind."

He and Jo laughed again, their shuttle fears completely lost. Jim scowled and turned to strike up an impromptu conversation with Spock, who had sat down between the captain and Uhura, and who quickly began to look extremely annoyed (in a Vulcan way, of course).

"Jo?" It was Pavel, who had sat down on the other side of her while she was laughing. Tara was on the other side of him, looking bored.

She spun around and saw him. Her face slipped from laughter into exasperation. "Don't tell me you're goin' to apologize _again_." When she saw his serious face, she sighed. "Listen, Pavel. Ya need to stop _apologizing_. I've forgiven ya, it's not healthy to keep on worryin' about it! 'Sides, I would've done the same thing!"

Her father looked interested. "YOU would've missed your best friend's graduation without telling them the reason?"

Instantly, both their faces froze. She looked sideways at Chekov, as though asking for permission. Slowly, he nodded. Jo smiled reassuringly before speaking to McCoy, who had become a bit worried by this short exchange.

"Pavel didn't come to my graduation because he was forced to see his father." _His father? So?_ McCoy thought. She noticed his look and continued. "His father was a lot like Jocelyn, only without the puppet to control."

He felt his face turn an odd blotchy color. "Your father—"

The kid nodded stiffly. "He started after my mozher died. Not as bad as Jo, but zhe day I left for ze Academy..."

"And ya went to _MEET_ HIM?!" McCoy hissed.

The kid nodded again. "He threatened me."

"Jesus..." Bones (dammit, Jim now he thought of himself as Bones) groaned. "Did he hurt you?"

Chekov shook his head. "Nyet. He said zhat he had forgiwen me end zhat he vas dying."

McCoy dug his palms into his eyes. No wonder Jo got along so well with the damn kid (who wasn't _really_ a kid anymore, at twenty seven), they were two peas in a pod. "God. Anything _else_ ya want to tell me?"

He looked sheepish. "Vhen I got home I destroyed ewerything een my room end punched ze vall so many times I broke five fingers end spleet all my knuckles."

" _WHAT?!_ " This was Jim, who obviously had been listening in. "How did I not know about this?"

Jo cleared her throat. "I had dermal and osteo regenerators in my room that I'd built from scratch. He didn't want anyone to know at that point, so I didn't take him to you or the Med Bay."

McCoy and Jim frowned in synch. "Ya _built_ your own regenerators?" Jim said. "How—"

She shrugged. "I took bits and pieces here and there and remembered the blueprints I'd memorized. I have a photographic memory, ya know."

Bones spluttered. "Do you have them _here_?"

Joanna nodded, pulled the small devices out of the pockets in her jean jacket. They were small, smaller than normal, but as he examined him McCoy realized that his daughter had not only made her own versions, she'd made them faster and more efficient. _Damn_ , he thought. _Joey could've been an Engineer!_

Suddenly, Jo and McCoy both realized that the shuttle was, in fact, landing. _Landing_? It hadn't even taken _off_ yet! Tara noticed their confusion and laughed. "Pavel apologized again to distract you from the take-off."

His daughter spun to the young man, looking a bit betrayed. " _Bastard_." She said with a hint of amusement.

The cocky kid just smirked. Jo's expression changed, to one of affection.

Privately, McCoy wondered if something was going to happen between the two. They were very similar, and they knew each other better than themselves, but Chekov WAS seven years older...

" _Bones_!" Dammit, Jim, he was thinking. "You coming? Uncharted space is waiting!"

Bones grimaced and stood, ready to leave the shuttle and get into the Enterprise, where he would finally get to watch over his daughter when she was in danger. Where she'd never be alone again.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **So apparently people (at least two) like this story!**

 **:O YYAAAAYYY**

 **But yeah. Here's chapter six. Their relationship is beginning to change, and people are starting to notice. Just not Jo and Pavel themselves...:/ I made them ignorant idiots, what can I say.**

 **Anyway, I have up to the eleventh chapter written with an estimate of 20-25 total, sooooo I still have a while to go before the end. It's pretty boring right now, and I'm sorry for the lame short chapter, but things WILL get more interesting next chapter.**

 **I PROMISE.**

 **(there may or may not be klingons involved sshhhh)**

 **Trellya**


	8. Chapter Seven: Attack By Klingon

CHAPTER SEVEN

When Jo walked aboard the Enterprise, she was dazzled. It had been upgraded and improved in the two years since she'd last been flown, and once again the Enterprise was top of the line.

"I know ya a'ready know where ev'rithin' IS, Jo," Monty was telling her with his usual Scottish bluster. "but I cannae let Doctor McCoy's daughter aboard without givin' her te _full_ tour!"

Jo laughed. "Well, Monty, who better to give it to me than you?"

She knew that his ego was fairly large. A few well-placed compliments to the Chief Engineer and his ship kept you in his good books, which was convenient when you got into trouble. "Indeed!" He huffed in agreement.

The 'complete' tour of Monty's lady took close to three hours. By then she was late to her very first shift. 'Not a good first impression,' she thought to herself as she ran through the maze of hallways she'd mapped in her head during Scotty's tour. Her photographic memory came in handy sometimes.

By the time she burst into the room, Christine Chapel and her father were checking the supplies of the medical equipment. Christine clucked at the sight of her. "Twenty-five minutes late on your first day? Not very Jo-like."

"I know." She groaned. "But Monty just HAD to give me the COMPLETE tour of the Enterprise. I tried to hurry him along, but ya know how he is with his lady."

Her father smirked. "The complete tour, huh? Honestly, I'm shocked you're only HALF AN HOUR late. I've heard stories of new crewmen missin' their shifts entirely!"

Jo smirked. "Well, most people would get lost on their way back, but as ya know, I don't have that problem."

McCoy wrinkled his nose. "Yes, yes, mental maps an all that. Honestly, darlin', I have no idea WHERE you get it from— not from Jocelyn, and certainly not from me."

Joanna shrugged. She actually knew the answer to that question. "Grandma McCoy. She had photographic memory, too. That's the reason I know what it is and how to manage what I remember."

Christine blinked. "Photographic memory? That's incredibly rare."

"I know."

A few minutes later a soft rumbling sounded under their feet. Moments after that, they were off into space, daring to go where no man had gone before. (For this mission they were going to a different section of uncharted territory from the last one.)

Jo and her father looked at each other. He saw the excitement in her eyes, the innocence, and he sincerely hoped that that innocence wouldn't be spoiled too soon.

A week into their mission they ran into Klingons. It was a rogue ship, so they had no qualms for entering enemy territory. During the space battle that followed, many things happened.

It began in the bridge. Jim was chatting with Sulu about different ships and how they fly, when Uhura interrupted. "Sir, we're being hailed by a rogue Klingon ship."

He frowned. "Bring them up."

With a flicker, a grainy image of the Klingon captain appeared. "Are you the Enterprise?"

Jim frowned, narrowed his eyes. Behind him, Spock stiffened. "Yes. This is the USS Enterprise, captained by James T. Kirk."

A twisted smile appeared on his lips. "Good." And then the image vanished.

A pregnant silence filled the air. Then Kirk snapped back to reality. "Mr. Sulu! Prepare for attack! Mr. Scott!" He called into the arm of the chair.

"Aye sir!" The voice was tinny and slightly distorted.

"Prepare for attack from a rogue Klingon Bird-of-Prey. I don't want those shields to go down." He snapped, then sighed, slumping in his chair. He didn't want to fight Klingons only a week into this. It seemed like a bad omen.

Less than five seconds later, they were hit. "Shields at 73%, sir!" Sulu announced. Another. "51!"

"Return fire." Kirk commanded.

Sulu frowned. "But sir, their shields are up! We can't see them!"

Jim scowled in annoyance. "Watch where the damn torpedoes are coming from and aim over there! We are NOT going down a WEEK into our mission!"

Another hit. Sulu fired back immediately. Nothing. "Shields at 34%, sir."

Suddenly, the Klingon's face reappeared. "You might want to surrender. Your ship's shields won't last another hit."

"Never." Kirk spat in disgust. The Enterprise didn't quit.

"Sir, their shielding is gone! I can see them!" Sulu hissed. Kirk gave an imperceptible nod, and the pilot fired. It was a direct hit.

The video feed shorted out, but the audio feed remained. "You shall pay for what you just did."

There were three rapid-fire shots. The first drained their shields completely. Sulu didn't even have to tell him. The next two blew holes in the hull. The first was deep in Engineering. The second was—

"Sir!" Cried Pavel. "Ze Kleengons hev blown a hole een ze Med Bay!" Fear was in his voice, and it instantly filled everyone's hearts.

No Med Bay meant there would be hardly any way to help the injured crewmen. Not to mention that Christine Chapel, the nurses, and...

"Bones!" Jim cried into his com. "You alright? Is JoJo there? Answer me, please! BONES!" Static. He tried again, this time with Joanna. "Jo! You okay?"

Static. A click. "Jim!" She sounded drained. "There's a hole in Med Bay! No one's died, the emergency shield kicked in, but half our beds and supplies are destroyed. And..." She hesitated.

The relief that had kicked in when he heard her voice slipped away. "What is it?" He asked.

"Dad's hurt. I think he hit his head, hard, and he's stuck under some rubble. Jim, I— I don't know if we can get him out in time. There's blood everywhere, and he's our best surgeon, and I—" she broke off, bursting into frightened tears.

Even though his vision was swimming before him, Kirk forced his voice to be steady. "You can get him out. I know you can. You're your father's daughter. If anyone can save him, YOU can. But Jo, are you alright?"

Sniff. "Me? I'm fine, the—"

"JO." He cut her off firmly. The pain and fear of possibly losing his best friend was making him harsher than he wanted to be. "ARE YOU HURT."

"I—"

"Jo." He said gently. "Take a deep breath. I know you're hurt, you're too hysterical not to be. Tell me what's wrong, JoJo Bear. You're scared and in pain, but you're stronger than anyone else on board."

He was vaguely aware of Spock telling Sulu to fire without ceasing on the Klingons. He was vaguely aware of the ship exploding on the screen in front of them. But he was truly focused on the sound of Joanna McCoy's terrified and pained voice. He needed to know if his surrogate niece would survive this, even if Bones didn't.

"I've got a cut on my head, and my leg hurts. I'm pretty sure I tore somethin' in my knee. But I can stand. I think I broke a rib, but it didn't puncture a lung. I've gotta go, Uncle Jim. I need to save Daddy." And she hung up.

Everyone on the bridge was staring at him. Tears were prickling in his eyes, and Jim Kirk realized that if Bones died, he would never be able to captain again. It would destroy him. So he prayed hard that Jo would prove as excellent a surgeon as her father.

Joanna McCoy hauled herself up from her position in the corner. She'd been lying when she said her broken rib hadn't punctured a lung. Her breath rattled and scraped, but she couldn't treat herself until her father was stable.

The nurses, all mostly unharmed, were dragging him out now. His left leg was broken, shrapnel was sticking out of his body like someone had used him as a pincushion, and he was unconscious. The CMO's normally blue shirt was stained a blackish-red color with his blood.

The nurses dragged him onto one of the few in damaged BioBeds, and they all looked at Jo. She was the only one qualified to do anything.

So she took a deep breath, snapped on gloves, and got to work.

Bones was floating. The last thing he remembered was the rocking of the ship, the distant explosion in Engineering, and a huge ripping and tearing of metal as the hull exploded, and he was being thrown across the room, pain piercing his body.

He knew he'd hit his head hard. He had the vague recognition that his communicator was crackling with Jim's voice. Pleading with him to answer, asking if Jo was alright. McCoy wanted to awake, but his body was sparing him from the agony of consciousness.

The next thing he was aware of was the beeping on monitors and the hushed, tense voices one hears during an operation where the patient might not live. To his shock, the voice he heard most was Joanna's. She was operating on him? His baby girl? Panic seized him, then pain, and his heart was racing and he couldn't breath and his eyes were open and all he could see was the tears on her face mixed with her own blood, and he could feel his heart slowing and stopping, and the panicked voice of his daughter, and everything went black again.

After that he woke up for good, and he was aware that the bed next to him was occupied. Slowly, Leonard opened his eyes. In the bed across from him was Jo.

Panic. Fear. Then the pain. Nurses surrounded him, Christine was telling him to CALM DOWN, but he couldn't breath again, and he felt like someone had stabbed him repeatedly, and then he heard another voice.

"Daddy. Daddy, it's okay. I promise, Daddy, your Joey's okay. Calm down, please. Daddy, please calm down. I already almost lost ya, please don't let me lose ya again."

His heartbeat slowed. If Jo was talking to him, then she was alright. His vision cleared, and she was standing above him, once again tears mixing with the blood on her face. At first she seemed okay, but then he noticed her face, pale and tight with pain she was trying not to show.

"Jo." He said hoarsely. "What—" He burst into loud coughs. His hand came away bloody. "Shit."

Jo plopped down on his bed, and winced. "Ya almost died. Ya woke up on the operating table, started panickin', and... Daddy, your heart stopped. I almost lost ya."

McCoy frowned. His heart had stopped? That must have destroyed her. "But you're... Hurt too?"

She sighed. "I tore my ACL in my knee, broke a couple ribs and punctured my lung, and scratched my head."

"WHAT?!" He snapped, then coughed violently. "Ya operated on ME when you should be bein' operated on yourself?"

Jo nodded, face still paler than it had been before. "Not just you. Them." She nodded toward the unconscious people lining the floors and laying on beds in the desecrated med bay. "Only the serious patients are here. Minor injuries were sent to their rooms."

McCoy bit his lip. "Has anyone looked at you yet?"

"No. I was just layin' down to get a bit of sleep when ya freaked out. The nurses are too busy right now." She stood up and cried out in pain as her knee straightened. McCoy noticed then that her breathing was heavy and labored, not to mention uneven, and that she really shouldn't be standing.

"Get back in bed now, Joanna Grace. Go to sleep. As your father and your doctor, I will not allow ya to be standin' like this." He said firmly, feeling so useless.

Jo simply nodded, her face green and taut with the pain. Leonard wanted to reach out to her, but knew that that wouldn't help. So he simply watched as his daughter laid down on the bed and slowly relaxed.

Soon after, he relaxed himself.

Jim Kirk hated waiting. It wasn't something he was good at. So waiting to hear from someone about Bones and Jo was torture. They wouldn't let him come down to Med Bay, and they wouldn't tell him anything about Bones.

After almost ten hours, Christine Chapel finally contacted him in his quarters. "They're both stable and asleep. You can come see them if you like."

Something about this didn't seem right. "Both?"

"Doctor McCoy and Joanna. They're both stable and sleeping." She said in a slightly annoyed voice. "I just TOLD you."

Jim frowned. "Jo told me she wasn't that hurt, and yet you tell me she's 'stable', like she was in danger of dying!" At Christine's eye roll, he scowled. "I'm seeing them now."

When he reached the remains of the Med Bay, he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The whole place was in shambles, unconscious people coating the floor like some gruesome carpet. In a corner was a very tightly packed bit of floor that was very clearly full of dead crewmen. "Jesus." He muttered.

On two of the beds he spotted the McCoy's. With a couple carefully placed steps, he was next to his best friend and sort-of niece. After a moment, Bones stirred. "Bones, you bastard. You scared me shitless!"

"Ah, fuck off." He moaned. "Ya do the same to me on a daily basis."

They both grinned at each other. "So?" Jim said, plopping down on the chair Chapel had provided. "What the hell happened?"

Bones shrugged. "I dunno. I was unconscious the entire time."

It was Christine that actually answered him. "Broken leg, concussion, shrapnel all over his chest. Couple of cracked ribs from being stuck under the debris. Heart stopped for a few seconds after he woke up during the operation, but he's okay now, and will recover shortly."

McCoy winced. "Jesus, Chris, don't tell him about THAT."

Sure enough, Jim's face had gone strangely pale. "Your heart stopped?"

"For about thirty seconds. Honestly, I'm FINE, Jim! I couldn't leave ya to your own damn self!" McCoy was pleading now, silently asking him to drop it. At that moment, Jim realized that his best friend remembered waking up on the operating table and dying.

He hesitated. "You remember, don't you."

Silence.

"I remember what it felt like when it happened to me." Jim continued, the memory of the agony and terror and the drifting, floating away, just as painful as it was all those years ago.

Silence. Then McCoy spoke. "I was on the operating table. I heard Jo's voice, I realized she was the surgeon. I panicked. Then the pain hit, and I couldn't catch my breath, and I could see Jo cryin' and the blood on her face, and I just... I stopped. Everything stopped. But then I woke up."

Jim and Bones sat in silence for several minutes before Joanna woke up. When she did, it wasn't the peaceful waking of her father.

Jo jerked awake, screaming at the top of her lungs, before slowly tapering off into a single phrase, gasped over and over. "I can't breathe I can't breathe Icantbreatheicantbreathejesusicantbreathe."

Christine was over in an instant. "Jo! Do you have a broken rib?"

The twenty year old couldn't reply. Her face was ashen from lack of oxygen, and the wheezes were getting weaker. Before Jim could say anything, he was being shoved from the room by a nurse. Just before the door slid shut he noticed Bones leaping to his feet and shouting for his surgical kit.

When Jo woke up, she couldn't breathe. She was screaming because she'd had a dream where her father was killed before her very eyes, and then she couldn't breathe, and then she noticed her father's voice shouting frantically and everything simply st—

Pavel was terrified. Doctor McCoy was alright, or so the Captain said, but he wouldn't say anything about Joanna.

Chekov knew that if Jo died he would go crazy. She had been there for him since he was seventeen, and meant more to him than a friend would. If she died, he would go mad, and no one, not even Tara, would be able to help him.

Eventually the news got out. Joanna McCoy was alive after a surgery during which her collapsed lungs were fixed and her knee put back together. According to Spock, she had been dead on the table for two solid minutes and was currently in a medically induced coma to ensure she didn't hurt herself more by waking up.

As soon as they woke her up two days after the incident, Pavel ran down to Med Bay to see her, blood pumping with fear and face pale.

She was sitting up, Jim and Doctor McCoy sitting next to her. She didn't talk much, but when she noticed Pavel in the door her whole face brightened. "Pav!" She said in a hoarse voice. "You're okay."

He sputtered. "I'M okay? You are vone who almost died!"

Jo chuckled. It wasn't her usual loud cheerful laugh, that filled everyone with laughter of their own. It was a weak, dry chuckle, one entirely unfitting for such a boisterous woman. "I'm still here, you soft-hearted Russian. And I'm not going anywhere."

Pavel felt such a rush of affection for the girl he almost fell over. Instead, he smiled broadly and sat down on the only other open chair, and listened to the captain and the CMO chat to distract all four of them from the events of two days ago.

After a few weeks, the Klingon attack that nearly took both of the McCoy's faded. The ship was repaired, its shields strengthened and the Med Bay restored to its former glory.

Jo and Bones, despite having another couple nightmares to add to their list, were doing fine. Both had nearly died before, so it was nothing new.

The death toll was astonishing. Seventeen engineers were sucked out by the hull breach, and eight more died while being treated. Twenty-five crewmen dead in the first week. Jim had to tell 25 families that their sons or daughters had died within the first week of their five-year voyage.

Tara Trenton had survived with only a sprained ankle, and was feeling what Jo called 'survivor's guilt.' She hated the fact she was so okay when two dozen of her friends and co-workers were dead. DEAD. Even Scotty was hurt worse than her, with a broken ankle and a minor concussion!

Then there was the fact that Jo had nearly died. Her heart had stopped for two minutes, and she had been unconscious for two days. Jesus, her best friend had nearly died! And Tara was sitting here with only a swollen ankle.

Maybe that was why she didn't get it checked. It didn't matter, she'd sprained her ankles before, and she didn't want to see Jo or Doctor McCoy, so she dealt with it herself. Pushed through the pain and treated it as her punishment.

It was still bothering her when she finally went to talk to Jo three weeks after the incident. "Hi, Jo. Your knee feeling better?"

Jo jerked her head up in surprise. "Tara! I thought you'd abandoned me! Come on, sit down. I don't bite, ya know."

Tara rolled her eyes. "You're right, I DO know, so I know full well that that statement is a lie."

"You're right." Jo smirked. Then her face mellowed. "Why've ya been ignorin' me, Tar? I could've used another friend in the last couple a weeks. Not bein' able to walk sucks."

Jo's knee injury was severe enough they couldn't risk a regenerator yet. That meant that her father had had to perform surgery to get everything back where it belonged and replaced. Afterwords she hadn't been able to walk for several days, and even now she was walking with a bulky leg brace that she despised.

Tara winced. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I just— I hate that I'm all fine and dandy while you're walking around with a knee brace! Honestly, I almost wish I was one the ones who had—"

SMACK.

Jo had hit her best friend across the face, fury in her eyes. "You do not say ya wish ya died. Never again. You are lucky to have survived without a scratch, and ya should be grateful you have been gifted with more life to live. I will not have my best friend wishin' she had died. Do ya hear me?"

Tara stared, shocked at the words and her face stinging from the slap. "I hear you."

Four months into their mission, they received a message from Star Fleet to make their way to Don Tarr, a planet in the Federation who was having some difficulties with a civil war. The rebels wanted to break away from the Federation, something that couldn't be allowed to happen because of the planet's strategic position close to Romulus and high trade value.

Jim was certain they would run into no problems with the rebels, and so formed the away team accordingly. He and Spock, of course, were coming, as well as a five-man security team. However, he also decided to bring his Navigator, and the newest nurse on the Enterprise.

The younger McCoy was thrilled by his decision. She hadn't gone on an away mission before! But the elder McCoy was furious. "There's no god damned way Jo's goin' down on a planet covered with violent rebels!" He told Jim firmly.

His friend's reply, however, was well thought out. "If you think I'll let anything happen to Jo, or that Spock will, or Chekov, then you are mistaken. Besides, she can take care of herself, Bones. She's one of the best at hand-to-hand I've ever seen. The girl's better than the security team, for gods sake! I'll even let you go down with us to make sure she's alright. But Joanna is coming with us, and that's an order."

McCoy, knowing how missions normally went on the Enterprise, decided to come along. It turned out it was a good thing he came along, too.

When everything went to hell, he was probably the only reason Jo and Chekov lived to tell the tale.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **So, yeah, this chapter is literally a train wreck of angst. And there's more to come!**

 **(Also be prepared for their first kiss)**

 **SSSSHHHHH I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING!**

 **Anyway, yeah, I am halfway through chapter eleven. And this is chapter seven.**

 **I probably won't upload another chapter until 11 is done, just to keep myself accountable and so you don't have to wait so freaking long if I have writer's block.**

 **Also THIS STORY HAS BEEN PUBLISHED FOR NINE DAYS AND I ALREADY HAVE 250ish VIEWS AND FOUR FOLLOWERS AND A REVIEW OH MY GOOOOODDDDDDDD THANK YOU THANKYOUTHANKYOU SO MUUUCCCHHH!**

 **Anyway now that my ranting and annoying screaming is over, bye!**

 **Trellya**


	9. Chapter Eight: Away Mission into Hell

CHAPTER EIGHT

The people going down to the planet (ten of them) were gathered for a briefing before being sent down to the jungle-filled Don Tarr.

"Our mission is to help heal the injured from attacks by the rebels, and locate their main base on the planet and destroy it. Bones, Jo, and Chekov, you'll be helping their medical team. You'll have Cupcake with you too, so don't worry." 'Cupcake' was the head of security, a very large and terrifying man no one liked to cross. Exactly _why_ Jim called him Cupcake was a mystery to everyone, but it was made clear that the captain _alone_ had that privilege.

McCoy nodded, looking relieved. Chekov, however, leaned over to Jo and muttered something in her ear. "Medical duty! I em dead veight!"

Jim continued, not hearing this comment. "The mission is expected to last two weeks, but may take longer depending on how long it takes to destroy the rebel base."

"Ai, yai yai!" Pavel groaned quietly. Jo giggled as he continued in Russian so only she could understand. "Two weeks stuck with your father? I'm doomed!"

She replied in Russian, her accent still horrendous, but her pronunciation better. "Oh, you'll survive. Besides, he's not _that_ bad."

Jim noticed their whispers at this point and glared at them pointedly. Both fell silent instantaneously, looking sheepish. "ANYWAY," he said in annoyance. "The Dontarri are desperate. The terrorists— they call themselves the Donta, I believe— are gaining ground, and the government is running out of citizens to recruit. Hopefully, this will be finished quickly, but there's no guarantee."

He paused, and looked around the room. "Mr. Spock, the rest of the security team, and I will be on the offense, if you will. Hopefully we won't need to risk more lives. Mr. Kingston-" (Cupcake's real last name) "-assures me you four are his best and brightest. Well, you better also be his most resilient, because our success rides on you four. You're all dismissed."

As they all scuttled for the door, Jim added, "Jo, wait a second." She frowned, and sat back down in her chair.

Once the room was empty, he spoke. "Jo, I know you've figured out by now that your father's going along to protect you. You've also probably figured out that the only reason you're not coming to fight the rebels is because Bones said no."

She nodded. It was obvious. She was a better fighter than half the people on the security team. Plus, her father _hated_ away missions. The only reason he'd volunteer would be to protect her.

"I'm just letting you know that the capital city isn't very safe."

She stared at him. "What do ya mean?"

He rubbed his eyes. "I mean that the city is raided almost every day, and you need to be prepared to fight for your life. And Bones's, and Chekov's. Those two can fight, but not well enough. That's why Cupcake is there. He won't go down without a fight, let me tell you. I would rather have you with me and Spock. I think you'd be safer. But Bones was goddamned adamant, so you're staying in the city."

She frowned. "Ya sound as though you're certain we'll die or get _captured_ or somethin'."

He grimaced. "You're right."

The capital city, Tarani, had obviously been devastated by the civil war. Half the buildings were destroyed, so throngs of homeless Dontarri wandered the streets, their thin, wispy forms appearing and disappearing like shadows.

Jo and Leonard had their hands full, setting broken legs and sewing up cuts and giving starving children a bite to eat off their own plates. Chekov was the distraction, something humorous for the small creatures to focus on.

The Dontarri were all about four feet tall, with a translucent fur covering their bodies. They had large eyes and cat-like faces, and their buildings were all made of dried grass and wood. Still, they were surprisingly high-tech, with excellent medical service and weapons that clashed with their child-like appearance.

Everything went well the first five days. No attacks were made on the city. Jim and Spock had narrowed down the location of the base to within ten miles, and they were searching the area thoroughly. Not one of their security detail had died, something that surprised everyone, even Harry Kingston, aka Cupcake. Normally he'd lost at least _one_ person at this point.

On the morning of the sixth day, however, Jo and the others were awakened by screaming and bombs.

By the time they'd pulled on their uniforms and grabbed their phasers, the hospital was being attacked directly, the narrow grass hut outside being burned away, revealing the large metal lining that protected the most important buildings.

The rebels streamed in. Jo's first thought was "They're _huge_!" And they were. Instead of the usual four feet, every single one was her height, over FIVE feet tall. "Steroids." Was her next thought.

Their weapons, basically like old Earth guns with metal bullets, were pointed at them threateningly. An order was barked in the Dontarri language. The Donta rebels opened fire on the wounded people. Screams filled the air.

Jo didn't even think. She threw herself at the nearest rebel and knocked the gun out of his hand. The creature snarled and swiped its claws at her. She gasped and leaned back, before punching it swiftly in the face. There was a crack, and the rebel shrieked in pain. Jo blocked his next attack and kicked at the legs. He collapsed to the ground, and Jo punched him fiercely in the head again, knocking him out.

Before she could even take a deep breath, there was a _BANG_ , and searing pain was in her leg, and she was screaming and her leg couldn't support her, and she sank to the ground, clutching weakly at the wound.

The Donta rebel came up to her, orange eyes blazing, and shot her again. This time it hit her stomach, and Jo cried out again. Blackness slowly ate away at her vision.

As it aimed again, this time for her heart, with a great scream in Russian Pavel leapt onto the creature, snapping its neck in one swift move. Jo stared at him in shock, watching as the realization of what he'd done crashed onto him. Then another Donta rebel cracked him on the head, and Pavel collapsed, unconscious.

"NO!" Shouted someone— herself, she realized— and then she was somehow on her feet and attacking the creature.

She saw her father on the ground, unconscious as well, and her fury only grew. But the pain and blood loss were getting to her head, and Jo sank to her knees, pain consuming her. Where was Kingston? Had he gone to get help? Well, it was too late now.

With her last seconds of consciousness, she watched as the rebels gathered up her father, Pav, and herself, taking her to God-knows-where.

Then the blackness consumed her, and she forgot everything in the blissful unconsciousness that followed.

When Jim, Spock, and the others returned to Tarani Hospital, they expected to see Bones and Jo and Chekov there, helping the sick and injured. Instead they saw a mass of dying, and a lonely, broken-looking human in the center.

"Cupcake!" Jim said. "Where's Bones? What the hell happened?"

He looked up, and Jim could see the security man's eyes were bloodshot. "There was an attack."

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "They're dead."

"No." Pause. "I don't think so. They were captured. I was in a different section of city, they needed me. I hoped Jo could protect them if they got to the hospital. But when I got back..."

"Mr. Kingston, please continue. Your story is vital to finding their location." Spock said curtly.

He nodded. "The surviving Dontarri said the soldiers just burst in, and that they opened fire on them. Jo attacked one and knocked him out." He pointed to a slumped body in the corner, clearly still unconscious. "Then one came up from behind and shot her in the leg. She fell down, and he shot her in the stomach."

Jim paled. Jesus.

"Chekov attacked him and broke the rebel's neck. Then _he_ was knocked out by another one." Jim stared. Pavel Chekov, who even at twenty-seven was a gentle soul greatly affected by death, had snapped a rebel's neck in cold blood?

Cupcake continued. "McCoy was knocked out by then, and Jo fought for a bit, but then they grabbed her and she was too weak to fight."

Jim stood there absorbing this news. Then he turned to the wall and kicked it angrily. The bare metal clanged and hurt his toe, but it felt good. "Wake up that damn rebel she knocked out. He'll know where they took them."

Cupcake nodded and walked over to where the rebel was laying. After a swift kick in the ribs, the creature jolted awake. He shouted angrily in his own language before noticing who they were. He slumped his shoulders. "What do you want to know."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Your fellow rebels took three of our crew members. Where were they taken?"

It smirked. "How should _I_ know?"

Cupcake kicked him in the ribs again. The creature yelped. "Answer my questions and we will let you go— WHERE did you take them?!"

"One of them was the girl that hit me?" It said with an annoyed tone of voice.

"Yes." Smirked Jim.

Silence. Then he spoke. "The base is underground. Near the Kondarri river."

Jim paused. This information, he sensed, was the only thing this creature would tell them. There was no point in pushing anymore. "Thank you. Cupcake?"

"Yes sir?" Kingston snarled.

Jim turned away from the rebel. "Hit him a couple of times and then throw him in the Tarani jail. Can't have him going back to _warn_ anybody."

Then Jim Kirk exited the tent and went to find a map.

McCoy woke up first. He had a bump on his head, but no concussion, which he was thankful about. He would need all of his brainpower to find a way to escape.

Glancing over at the kid, he noticed that he appeared physically fine besides a lump on his skull that matches McCoy's own. McCoy looked over at Jo, expecting to see the same, and instead about had a heart attack.

Jo's blue dress was soaked in blood. She had been shot in the leg and the stomach, and judging by the pallor of her face, she'd passed out from blood loss, not a hit to the head.

"Shit." Bones muttered. He pulled off his blue tunic, leaving the skintight black undershirt. Then he tore makeshift bandages out of the material. Not what he'd like to use, but the damn rebels had taken his goddamned medical kit. As usual.

He felt her pulse. Weak, but steady. Checking it every couple minutes as he applied her bandages, it never weakened further, but it didn't strengthen, either. But she was stable, and that'd have to do for now. A groan from behind him made McCoy spin around.

Chekov had woken up, rubbing his head. He said something in Russian, then shook his head and spoke again, clearly the same thing only in Standard. "Vhat heppened?"

"Rebel attack on the hospital." McCoy growled. Then he turned to his daughter's limp form. "Jo was shot. Twice."

The color drained from the kid's face. "I forgot. I killed ze men zhat deed eet, but—"

"Ya KILLED him?" McCoy said sharply. Chekov winced. It was obvious he felt guilty. " _Good_." He growled. Surprise appeared on the kid's face, making him smirk. "He hurt my daughter. I want him goddamned dead. The fact that ya already addressed that problem makes me feel better."

The kid looked at Jo, guilt shining in his eyes. "I weesh I had done eet earlier. Save her from ze pain."

McCoy sighed, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Chekov jumped, and the doctor winced a bit realizing that the kid was still a bit afraid of him after over ten years of working with him. But he decided not to talk to him about it yet. Instead, he said the words he'd planned on saying. "Me too, kid. Me, too."

As the silence that followed this statement became uncomfortable, McCoy decided to revise his decision to not question Chekov on his fear of him until later. After all, they didn't know for sure if there would be another chance. "You jumped when I touched ya. You scared'a me, kid?" His usually gruff voice was gentle.

A pause. For a moment, McCoy thought he would deny it, but then the thin shoulders slumped in defeat. "A leetle. Yes."

" _Why_? Did I do something wrong?" This fright truly baffled McCoy. He was used to people disliking him because of his gruff manner, but never be afraid of him.

"No, sir, eet's just—" Chekov paused, biting his lip. "You remind me of my fazher."

McCoy felt like he'd been slapped in the face. "I remind ya of your ABUSIVE FATHER who didn't give a shit about ya?!" He might be many things, a terrible _husband_ among them, but he prided himself on being the best _father_ he could. "Kid, I'm sorry, but I just don't see the connection."

Chekov shook his head. "No, not ZHAT part. You have wery similar personalities. _Gruff_. Doesn't trust easily. End... End vhen you hate somezhing, ees vith a passion."

McCoy was quiet. He thought he knew what the kid was trying to get at. "You were worried that I'd hate ya and treat ya like your _father_ did? Kid, you should know from Jo that I'd _never_ do that."

"I know." Chekov said desperately. "I _know_ , end I try so hard not to let myself be afraid, but you're _so_ much like heem— like he vas _before_ , vhen I... left."

McCoy's eyes hardened. "Listen, kid. Why do ya think I still _call_ ya kid, even though you're twenty-seven and one of the strongest men I've ever known? It's because I _care_ about ya. More importantly, _Jo_ cares about ya, and because of that I'll always care for ya like I would my own child. And ya _know_ how I treat Jo."

The kid smiled at him softly, and he could see the relief and trust growing in his eyes. The moment was broken, however, when Jo began talking in her sleep.

"No... Mom... Please stop..."

Leonard felt the blood drain from his face. She was dreaming about Jocelyn.

Chekov simply shook his head. "Aye yie yie. Not again."

"This has happened BEFORE?" McCoy hissed, feeling the barest beginnings of tears prick dangerously in his eyes. The kid nodded. "Why didn't she tell me?"

He shrugged. "I think she deed not vant to vorry you."

McCoy was about to reply— probably something along the lines of "Worry, my ass!"— when she spoke again.

"I just wanted... No... I just wanted to see Jim... And Dad... No, please... Everyone will see..."

He turned sharply to Chekov. The Russian simply winced sadly. "After she ran away. Zhey beat her outside, but ze neighbors deed not do anyzhing."

Before Bones could do anything, Jo jolted awake with a loud "DADDY!" He was by his daughter's side in an instant, soothing her and reassuring her as the pain from her wounds made her cry.

"It's okay, Jo, Joey, darlin'. You're okay, I'm here, I'm not gonna let 'em hurt ya anymore." He could hear his Southern drawl becoming more pronounced as he soothed her, but honestly, McCoy didn't care. He wasn't a doctor right now, he was her Daddy.

Eventually, she calmed down enough to be aware of where they were. "What the hell—"

"You're with us in some sorta cell. We were captured by Donta rebels. One of said rebels shot you, once in the leg, once in the abdomen. And before ya ask, _no_ , they're not life-threatening. The shots managed to miss anything important." He explained quickly.

Jo sighed. "Do we have any communicators?"

McCoy shrugged. "I didn't have mine on my belt. I'd set mine down next to a patient. You?"

"Nope. I did the same thing." She said bitterly.

Chekov made a strange noise, excited and shocked and in denial all at once. "Mine ees steell here!"

"WHAT?!" Both Southern doctors exclaimed.

"Try it!" Jo pleaded.

McCoy snorted. "It won't work properly. Those damn things _never_ do when ya really need em to."

Chekov tried anyway. He clicked the button and spoke. "Chekov to ze Keptin, Chekov to ze Keptin. We are alive end een cepteevity."

Static. A click. "-kov... Worried abo... Kno... -ou are?"

Jo figured it out first. "He was worried about us and is wondering if we know where we are."

"I em sorry, Keptin, but I do not know where ve are. Ees most deestressing, sir." He said.

More static. Another click. "-Bon... Joan... Okay?"

He didn't need a translation for that one. "Yes, sir. Zhey are both fine. Jo has been hurt, sir, but she vill be okay."

"Good. We... Get to... Don't know... How long... Take." Kirk's voice hissed and cracked, nearly indecipherable.

When she noticed Pavel's confused glance, Jo supplied the answer for him. "He's looking for us but he doesn't know how long it'll take."

The Russian frowned. "Please hurry, sir. We do not know vhat zhey vant." Kirk tried to reply, but it was only static. "Sir? We could not hear you. Try again."

They only got the same result. With a sigh, Chekov flicked off his communicator and lay down on the ground. At least the captain knew they were alive. Honestly, that was all the communicator conversation COULD have done. They three of them were clueless as of their location, and didn't know any information to help them figure that out.

Their brooding silence was broken when Jo spoke. "Do ya think they'll have any pain meds to give me?"

McCoy scowled. "I would give it to ya myself, but my medkit wasn't ON MY PERSON durin' the attack. Dammit, I was such an idiot!"

Jo looked at him, remembrance in her eyes. "Well, I'm a genius, because I have a couple hypos on me!"

He stared. There weren't a lot of places to put a couple of hypos on you, especially in the nurse's uniform. She smirked mischievously and nodded toward her chest. Realizing what she meant, McCoy blushed scarlet, as well as Pavel. "Why the hell do ya have hypos in THERE?"

" _Emergencies_." She said with a satisfied smirk. The two men looked away as she grabbed the hypo and vial out of her bra. "Daddy, I'm not supposed to inject myself."

He nodded and grabbed the device from her hands. Examining it, he realized this was another one of her improved versions. It was smaller and sleeker, and, he realized when she didn't even flinch at the pinch on her neck, was less painful.

"This one takes all the fun outta hypoin' in the first place!" He grumbled. Jo heard him and sniggered. Then he paused. "What medications do ya have?" He resisted the urge to add 'down in there' to the end of his sentence.

She tallied for a moment on her fingers. "Now? Five of pain meds, six of antibiotics, four of sedatives." Sensing the two men trying not to stare at her chest and wonder at how she could _fit_ all that in there, she opened up the hidden sewn-in compartments on the hips of her dress. "I sewed these into all of my uniforms my first week on board. I hoped I'd never have to use them, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "It's the Enterprise. I've got a tricorder and a couple other emergency medical supplies as well. As the old Earth saying goes, 'Be Prepared!'"

McCoy was relieved. Thanks to his ingenious daughter, who had essentially hidden a doctor's emergency medkit in her uniform, he could take care of her injuries— and any others they might gain during this little adventure.

"Okay, do ya have bandages?" Seeing her eye-roll, he scowled. "Well, can I have 'em?"

A bit of rummaging through the hidden compartments, and a roll of sterile bandages was procured. She handed him a hypo full of what he assumed was some sort of anti-infection medication, and he got to work.

Luckily, the bullets had gone all the at through her body, so he didn't need to remove them. He did bandage the wounds carefully after cleaning them. Jo winced, but didn't complain, which McCoy appreciated. If she spoke, he would probably lose his nerve.

He would have liked to run a dermal regenerator over her for a few sessions, but even Jo's special smaller version was too large to fit in a hidden pocket on a Star Fleet uniform.

Then she spoke. "I've got a dermal regenerator in my boot. It's really small, and I haven't gotten it to work right, but it's better than nothing."

He was shocked. "How the _hell_ —"

She slipped off her boot and removed the heel. Inside was a tiny device, obviously not quite perfected. However, when the skin closed over the bullet wounds, he knew that it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

"Ve should hide zhis stuff somevhere else. Not on your person." Chekov said. "Ve do not know vhat zhey vill do to us, and ve cen not reesk any of eet being destroyed."

Jo nodded in agreement. "Okay, but where?"

Pavel pointed to the wall. "Zhere ees loose brick here where old preesoner heed things. Ees plenty of space for your things."

Coming over to the corner where he sat, the two McCoy's saw it was true. A large space had been chiseled away behind the brick, and when said brick was replaced it appeared exactly the same as the rest of the wall.

Quickly they took the medical supplies and his them in the wall. It wasn't a lot, but they could make it last.

Suddenly, there were footsteps.

The brick was replaced, and the three of them scooted an acceptable distance away from each other just in time as the guard swung around the corner toward them. It was obviously one of the Donta rebels, with his strangely large Dontarri form.

"Doctor McCoy!" Shouted the creature. Even shouting, his voice wasn't that loud. And even though he was taller than most Dontarri, he was still shorter than Jo, and thus the other two humans as well.

Jo smirked. "Which one?"

It glared at her. "You are a nurse. You are Nurse McCoy. Doctor McCoy has been summoned by our leader."

Shakily, Leonard got to his feet. "Fine." As he was led away, he hoped fervently that they wouldn't torture him. Of course, that hope proved to be wrong.

Once his screaming started, Jo knew that they were in for a _hell_ of a time.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **So yeah, I finished chapter eleven, which means I get to upload another chapter!**

 **Won't update again until chapter twelve is over halfway, which might take a while as I have a spot of writer's block on the direction I want this story to go next.**

 **On another note, I am super busy now that school's started again,**

 **which of course means less writing time.**

 **Sorry :(**

 **Anyway,**

 **I will write as much as I can, and if I go too long without updating I will upload chapter nine early, as a sort of 'I'm sorry that I'm such a terrible person' thing.**

 **AAAAANNNNDDDD this note is really long now. :/**

 **Love you, please fave/follow/review!**

 **Trellya**


	10. Chapter Nine: Torture, Yay

CHAPTER NINE

When Leonard McCoy returned to their cell, he was shaking and pale, but appeared to be physically unharmed. Naturally, this baffled Jo and Pavel, who had been listening to his screams and cries for the past two hours.

"Some sort of serum." He growled. "Causes extreme pain in waves of ten minutes with a one minute break between each wave."

The two of them winced. "What were they asking?" Jo said quietly. She knew that the two of them would be tortured next, and wanted to be prepared.

"Wanted to know how close our people were to findin' this base. Wasn't that hard not to say anythin', since I didn't really know that much." Bones explained wearily, shaking legs finally giving out as he sank to the ground. "Didn't really care."

Suddenly, the guard appeared again. "Navigator Chekov!"

Pavel stood up, face white with fear, and walked to the door of the cell. The guard grabbed his arms and dragged him away. Just before the young man was out of sight, she saw as he glanced back to watch their shrinking figures.

Once his screams began, she winced. Somehow, the pained cries of Chekov were worse for her to hear than her father's. But why? Why was the pain of her friend worse for her to bear than that of the man she held in higher regard than anyone else, the man she loved so dearly?

Leonard didn't seem to notice her turmoil and looked at her sympathetically. "The first time you hear people getting tortured is always the worst. But it doesn't get any easier, either."

Pavel's screams faded into sobs for a moment as the first wave of pain passed. The sobs were worse than the screams. Jo punched the wall viciously as he didn't say anything and broke out into his agonizing cries again.

"When it was you, I managed to block it out, ya know? Pretend that it wasn't you, because you're my daddy and you'll never get hurt." Jo said loudly, trying to forget the horrific sounds in her ears. "But with Pav... He's always been so fragile, ya know, even though he's older than me. He's always been the 'kid' of the bridge. I mean... The time where I called and Pav was in a coma was worse than any beatin' Clay and Mom gave me. Because it gave a face to my nightmares, ya know? Now I knew that he could get hurt and die, and that he almost had, and I knew that if he was gone I'd lose my best friend..."

McCoy stared at his daughter, understanding on his face. "I feel the same way about Jim. But I have to push it away, because otherwise I'd be panickin' when he's gotten himself hurt, instead of being the doctor he needs."

"Dad..." Jo whispered. "I think I'd go mad if he died. I really do. He's been my anchor and my friend since I was ten years old, and I just—" she broke off sobbing, feeling like an idiot, feeling like she should be stronger than this, and feeling so SCARED that she didn't even care.

And suddenly McCoy was there, wrapping his arms around his daughter and holding her as she cried. Once she stopped, neither of them moved. They simply sat there, embracing each other as the Russian Navigator screamed in his native language for his mother.

Almost two hours later, Pavel was brought back to the cell. His face was streaked with tears, and he was pale and shaking. As soon as he entered the cell, Jo was there, hugging him and somehow succeeding in not crying again. "It's okay, I'm alright." He muttered in Russian, and she chuckled at the lie.

Suddenly, large rough alien hands were grabbing her and dragging her away from him. Panic seized her, and she fought. "No! Daddy! Pav! I'm not— I can't—" Unlike them, she had never done anything like this before. Unlike them, she had no clue whether or not she would spill. Torture training was not a class at the Academy.

Her father said something quietly. "You can do it, Joey." And then she burst into tears of fear.

They took her too a room with a sinister looking chair in the center. As soon as she laid her eyes on it, the fight left her, and she didn't resist as they strapped her in. Of course, at first they asked her questions. To see if she would be cooperative. She didn't say anything. Couldn't, actually. Her mouth wouldn't work. She was too scared.

"I am sorry, Ms. McCoy, but I must inject you with our special serum. It causes extreme pain, as I'm sure you've heard and your father has told you. We will see how you fare." Said the interrogator.

A man came over and injected her with a hypo. For a few moments, it wasn't that bad. Then, all at once, Jo felt as though her very atoms were being ripped apart.

She screamed and screamed. When the pain subsided, she cried, memories of her childhood beatings coming back to her, and when it began again she wasn't strapped to the chair, she was duct taped to the couch, and the pain was from her mother and Clay killing her very slowly.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO IM SOOOOOOOORRRYYYYYY!" She screamed. "DDDAAAAAAAADDDDYYYYYYYY!"

Jo cried out for her father, for him to help her, for her mother to stop hitting her, for Pavel, anything. When the antidote was finally supplied, she slumped in the chair, her hallucinations still in full swing. Her father had saved her, she was certain.

"Are you ready to answer our questions?"

The voice made her muddled mind confused. Why would her father say that? The residual pain hit her, and she started crying again. This wasn't her father. It was Thomas Maxwell, who had tried to kill her, and he was here to finish the job. "No, no, please, I'm sorry, don't kill me, I just want my daddy, please..."

Another voice. "She's crazy because of the pain. She can't give us what we want. Bring her in first tomorrow, see what happens then. And... We'll use a different tactic. This is... Too extreme for her." Jo heard the words, but she couldn't quite comprehend them.

The hallucination was fading. Maxwell wasn't there, he was actually the interrogator. But her mind was still panicking, and she kept diving in and out of her nightmare world as the guard carried her all the way back to the cell.

Her father's voice, asking what the hell happened and if she was alright. Another— yes, that's right, Pavel— pleading to her in a different language she understood, whispering to her and telling her that her mother and Clay weren't there, and that she needed to regain control. Slowly, Jo found her strength and broke the nightmare.

"Daddy. Pav. It's okay. I'm okay..." She grimaced as she sat up. "Now."

The two men stared at her. "What the fuck did they do?" McCoy spat.

Jo snorted in amusement. "They did nothing different from you two. I just couldn't handle it. My mind... It was in so much pain, it panicked and invented a nightmare world where I was duct taped to the couch and Clay and Mom were killin' me... And then I thought Thomas Maxwell was there... And... I couldn't tell what was real."

"Maxwell?" Her father said. "The kid responsible for the shuttle incident? The one that almost killed you?"

Jo nodded wearily. "Yeah."

"Jesus." He groaned.

She realized that Pavel had her to say anything since she woke from her nightmare. Suddenly, she found herself wondering if his voice had been in her imagination. She frowned, bit her lip, and glanced at her friend. His face was ashen, jaw clenched.

"Pav?" She said quietly. His gaze flicked to hers, then flicked away again. "You okay?"

Silence.

Then, a soft chuckle. "Nyet."

For some reason, Joanna smirked. "Neither am I, Pav. Neither am I."

The next morning, the guard brought them food and water. The three of them ate it eagerly, knowing they probably wouldn't get any more for the rest of the day. As soon as they were finished, the guard grabbed their plates and left.

A few minutes later, he returned. "Nurse McCoy, come with me."

Jo felt the blood drain from her face. But she managed to force herself to stand. She was not going to panic and break down like she had yesterday. She was going to stay strong, for Pav. She had seen how her screams and hallucinations had affected him. She wasn't about to let that happen again, if she could help it.

The room's single chair was gone. In its place was a pair of dangling chains hanging from the ceiling, and a matching pair on the ground. They chained her in, keeping her arms and legs taut. Jo felt apprehension— what were they going to do to her?

"Hello, Nurse McCoy. Feeling better?" It was the interrogator from yesterday. Jo ground her teeth and spat at his feet. The man pouted, which looked strange on his slight silvery form. "Now, Now, Joanna. Don't be angry."

The men rolled in a rack of something. It shimmered and gleamed, and Jo felt a stab of dread as she realized they were strange and twisted knives. They were resorting to classic methods, apparently.

"Remove her uniform, but leave the undergarments. It will get in the way." She paled, and struggled.

"You BASTARDS, GIVE ME MY GODDAMN CLOTHES BACK!" She shrieked in pure rage.

The Dontarri sighed. "Such RAGE, Miss McCoy. I suppose I should start torturing you now." A wicked grin flitted across his face. "Put your screams to better use."

He picked up a knife with a ten-inch long blade, slightly curved. Perfect for scarring faces. He grazed it lightly across her face. "You look beautiful like this, you know. It really is a pity you won't cooperate... If you tell me the information about the Enterprise's progress and plans, we can take a break to my quarters... And you can lose those PESKY undergarments of yours."

Jo smirked. "You can go to hell. I won't sleep with a bastard Donta rebel like YOU."

The rebel's face tightened. He pushed down harder on her face, and the blade sliced into her cheek. Jo winced, but didn't cry out. She wasn't about to give him that satisfaction. Another cut was made on her other cheek, then one just underneath her eye. This time, she couldn't stop a 'hsss' of pain. The man smirked at her, and sliced a series of small cuts into her forehead.

She cried out as the tip dug into her flesh, scraping bone, and tears streamed from her eyes, mixing with the blood. The creature smirked, and placed the knife back on the rack. He picked up another, with a wicked serrated edge that Jo knew would be perfect for arms and legs.

And so it went. As time went on, the pain became worse and worse, until she couldn't stop herself from screaming any longer. But these screams were different. Instead of the wild, agonized pain of the serum, this was raw, desperate, and had the sound of someone who expected to die.

Almost three hours later (the man took his time), Jo was released. A Donta rebel took a rag and wiped some of the blood off of her arms and face, before forcing her uniform on her head. Blood instantly soaked it, sticking to her body and causing more pain.

This time, although she was in far more pain now then she had been after the last session, Jo defiantly stayed on her feet, walking the maze through the hallways to her cell. Her father and Pavel's horrified gasps made her wince, and as soon as she was in the cell, her father was there, gently guiding her to the back wall where the medical supplies were hidden.

"Navigator Chekov." Snarled the guard. Pavel walked calmly out of the cell, the door clanged shut, and they were alone.

Her father pulled out a swath of bandages. "Jesus, Jo. We were scared stiff. We couldn't hear you for so long... And then the SCREAMING..." Leonard shuddered.

"Can I get a goddamned pain hypo, please? This hurts like a sunnuva bitch." She said in a tight voice. He nodded and injected her with his expert hand. Almost instantly, the pain slipped away, and she relaxed.

As her father cleaned up her face, she saw his own tighten. "What?" She said softly. "What is it?"

"On your forehead." McCoy said. "He wrote something, in his native language."

She felt the blood brain from her face. "Can you read it?"

For a moment, her father's face became an unreadable mask as he internally battled with himself. Then, cracks seemed to appear, and sorrow set in. "Yes. It's a traditional symbol, one of the ones Uhura made me memorize."

"And?"

He but his lip. "It's a symbol to lay claim to a female. It's like an engagement ring... Says that you're claimed."

"Will it scar?"

He hesitated. "If Jim and Spock don't come before they heal, yes."

Jo stayed quiet as her father cleaned and bound her many knife wounds. At some point, he needed her to pull up her dress to get the stomach wound, and take her arms out of her sleeve temporarily to heal her shoulder blades.

Watching her father work effectively distracted her from Pavel's cries, as well as the fact that any movement caused extreme pain. By the time Pav came back to the cell, she was done being fixed up.

Chekov had not been sliced to ribbons, like herself. Instead, he had been whipped. His back was a mess of slashes that she knew would scar if they didn't get back to the Enterprise before they healed. Once her father left, Jo began to clean up his back, giving him a pain hypo and applying bandages.

"I hate seeing ya like this." She said softly, pressing the bandage over his shoulder carefully. "It's too goddamn painful to remember that ya could be killed in action so easily."

Pavel laughed painfully. "I know vhat you mean. Eef you died, I vould go crazy."

"Me too." Jo whispered, staring at her hands, which were now stained with her friend's blood. "If ya died, I would probably become a crazy nurse that kills people because'a grief and jealousy. You've... You've just always been there, ya know? Through so many of my dark times. And if I lost you..."

She realized with a jolt that Pavel had sat up. "You shouldn't sit up." She scolded, cursing her voice for being so obviously teary.

And then he gently kissed her, sweetly, tenderly, conveying all the fear and pain and caring he had for her in that moment. After an instant where she allowed herself to be shocked— after all, PAVEL had just KISSED her— she kissed back.

It was long, but innocent. Neither of them had kissed very many people before, and neither of them were fully convinced that what they were doing was right.

Jo broke away first, and stared with shocked eyes at the man in front of her. Pavel smiled, then frowned and wiped something from her cheek. "Your cut ees bleeding again."

Jo smirked. "Which cut? I've got shitloads." Pav gave her an unapproving look for her language, so she stuck out her tongue. He stuck his out back, and the spell (the metaphorical spell that had somehow led to Jo kissing her BEST FRIEND within an inch of his life, and ENJOYING IT) was broken.

When Leonard McCoy returned to the cell, covered from head to toe in bruises from the brutal beating he had received, he didn't detect anything different between the two. He didn't realize that the Russian and the Georgian were both secretly wondering what they were going to do, now that their actions had effectively put a giant spike through their solid friendship.

The next day, just as the guard was about to grab Jo again for her next torture session, the Donta was shot in the back by phaser fire. "Bones!" Cried the shooter. "JoJo! Chekov!" It was Jim, of course.

"Took you long enough, you bastard." Bones snarled back.

Jim took in their injuries. Then he frowned. "How the hell is Jo not bled out by now, judging from the sheer amount of knife wounds? And why are there bandages on the ground?"

Jo grinned. "I may have had the foresight to hide some emergency medical supplies on my person in hidden pouches on my uniform." She pulled the few remaining supplies from the compartment, and placed them in their respective places. "Genius, remember?"

More shots were suddenly heard in the distance. Jim winced. "Damn. I was supposed to get you out by now, and try and avoid crossfire. Of course, we'll probably be fine. C'mon. Can you all walk?"

"Can y'all walk?" Jo imitated in a condescending voice. "I'm STANDING, aren't I?"

Jim grabbed the key from the unconscious body of the guard and unlocked the door. McCoy, Jo, and Pavel exited as swiftly as possible, each wincing from their injuries. "They tortured you?"

"No." Pavel said unexpectedly in a show of sarcasm that was actually quite impressive for the mild-mannered Russian. "JO wheeped me, ze naughty girl."

Jim burst out laughing. Jo glared at Pavel and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. Leonard was about to make a sassy comment in response, but was cut off when shots suddenly came from around the corner.

"Crap." Jim hissed. "Okay, we're going this way, I guess." The three of them froze when they realized the direction their captain was heading. "What?" The man asked, confused. They couldn't speak, but they all knew that that hallway led straight past the torture chamber.

They passed it, however, without too much trouble. Jo knew she should be relieved, but her head was really hurting for some reason. She felt like someone was screaming at her in a different language. She felt like she shouldn't really be leaving. Suddenly, the words in her head switched to Standard.

"You can't leave, you're mine, you're mine youremineyouremineyouremine—" It was the rune-like symbol on her forehead, she realized. It wasn't simply symbolic. It held actual power. A moment after that, she realized that she couldn't seem to take the final step outside of the compound. Her muscles seemed to be rebelling.

Her father frowned. "Jo? You alright? We need to get out of here!"

Jo realized she couldn't really control her body anymore. She shook her head. She wanted to tell him that some sort of spell had been activated, but the voice in her head was telling her she wasn't allowed to speak to someone that wasn't her master.

Footsteps behind her. A hand touched her blood-stained cheek, and she recognized it as that of the interrogator. 'No,' the voice said. 'I am your master now. And you are mine. Forever.'

Some small part of her rebelled, but then his other hand grabbed her face, and the alien lips pressed to hers. Instantly, the part of her that was still et was locked away in the cage created by the ever more powerful spell. There was a searing in her forehead as the scratched marks became a brand. Jo knew the only way they could be removed was if her master died.

Jo vaguely heard the voices of some humans behind her. Suddenly, the air glowed around them, and she and her master had appeared in a more peaceful part of the base.

"Don't worry, my love." Purred her master, rubbing his face against hers in a catlike fashion. "You'll never have to be away from me again."

And Jo felt the spell truly control her as she found herself desperately in love with the man who had tortured her.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **I am SOO SORRY about the long wait, but chapter twelve was a bit of a bitch to write (pardon my French). Lots of angst, lots of PTSD, yay. So, yeah. I kinda am unsure how long to carry this story on, but I will cross that bridge when I get to it. Also, school. Band. Fall play, in which I get eaten by a frog. Fuuuuunnn tiiimmeeesss.**

 **I love to hear from you marvelous people, so pleasepleasepleaseplease review/favorite/follow/whatever.**

 **So yeah.**

 **This is getting long. And awkward.**

 **BYYYEEEEE!**

 **Trellya**


	11. Chapter Ten: Birthdays and Bourbon

CHAPTER TEN

Leonard McCoy was pounding furiously on the locked door to the base. "LET US IN YA GODDAMNED BASTARDS! GIVE ME MY DAUGHTER BACK!"

Jim sighed. "We aren't getting in through here, Bones. We gotta go around to the front and search for her. Who knows where that transport took them."

Pavel was sitting on the ground, staring blankly at the bottom of the locked door in front of them. "Deed you see her face?" He said softly, his tone horrified. "She vas under some sort of enchantment or hypnosis. Ewen eef we find her, ve vill hef to break hees hold on her."

"Chekov's right." Jim said. "We need someone who could help us break a spell or whatever like that. I'll call Spock. He'll help."

As the Captain fumbled for his communicator, the doctor crumpled on the ground. He was devastated. An alien had kidnapped his daughter, and had done something to her. Whatever he'd done to her, McCoy knew one thing— he would kill the creature himself, Hypocratic Oath or not. NO ONE hurt his Joey and got away with it.

"Spock." Jim said.

A crackle. "Yes, Captain."

Said captain hesitated. "Jo's been kidnapped. And something's been done to her mind. She's not right, and there was this symbol on her forehead, something about... Claiming her for this one guy?" He looked to McCoy for confirmation, who shrugged. "Yeah. Something like that. Anyway, we might need a meld or something to stop it."

Spock paused. "I will begin searching for her immediately. Or shall I wait for you, Captain, and we will search together?"

"No. We'll spilt up. We have no idea where she is, only that there's no way the transport could have sent them outside of the building. The device left behind wasn't advanced enough." Jim said.

"I will begin to search at the soonest possibility. Goodbye, Captain." And he hung up.

Jim put away his communicator and stared at the door. "Maybe if we knock?" Bones snorted, but Jim ignored him. Instead, he knocked carefully on the door, three times. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then there was the sound of a lock being clicked off, and the door opened.

The rebel tried to close the door as soon as he saw who it was, but Jim had already stunned him with his phaser. The three then ran down the hallways, splitting up, phasers drawn and ready to stun any rebels coming their way.

It was Pavel who found her.

He was walking down a particularly peaceful hallway when he heard the voice of the interrogator— the one who'd tortured them and kidnapped Jo.

Somehow, Pavel kicked down the door with one kick— something he tried to repeat later with a 0% success rate.

Jo was sitting on the bed. Her dress had been taken off. Standing next to the bed was the Donta interrogator, his slight form bristling with fury. What really made Pavel decide to do what he did, though, was what Joanna said next. "Darling? Who's that? Why did he break in?"

She didn't recognize him. The thought made his body rush with anger, and with precision he changed the setting of his phaser from 'stun' to 'kill.' He wasn't taking any chances with this man.

"Let her go." He spat, eyes blazing furiously. "Before I blow hole een your skull."

The Dontarri laughed. "You? The gentle-hearted navigator who can't even speak STANDARD right? You wouldn't dare do anything, even though the only way to break the spell is to kill me. You don't have the guts."

Pavel smiled. It was cold, and his eyes were even colder. He looked like an assassin, ready to take out their prey. "Oh, really?"

And then Pavel Andreivich Chekov, who hated killing people and always looked for another solution, shot the creature three times in the head. Even as the creature sank to the ground, the cold smile never left his face.

Seconds later, McCoy and Jim ran in. "What was— GOOD GOD!" The doctor cried in shock upon seeing the mild-mannered navigator standing over the corpse of the man they were seeking, a smoking phaser still in hand. "Chekov— you— did you—"

The Russian placed the phaser back in its holster and turned to look at his friends. "I keeled heem, end I do not regret eet."

The two men looked frightened by the cold deadly look on his face. Suddenly, Spock showed up. After a few seconds of examining the scene, the Vulcan spoke. "Mr. Chekov, did you kill the Donta rebel?"

He simply nodded.

Moments later, Jo spoke. "Guys? What— what happened?" She looked down at herself and frowned. "Where's my dress?"

In five minutes the five of them were outside the base, this time with all of their members. They were beamed back to the Enterprise five minutes after that, and soon Pavel, McCoy, and Joanna were in Med Bay, being treated for the wounds from their torture.

Jo had no recollection of what happened after Jim let them out of their cell, and though she had been told what had happened, no one would tell her WHO had killed the interrogator. She suspected it to be either Jim or her father.

She and Pavel never mentioned the kiss they'd shared in the cell, either to Jim or themselves. It was forgotten, shoved away so they wouldn't have to untangle the messy strings of feelings inside themselves and redo their entire relationship. Of course, they thought about it alone, and that was bad enough.

Almost every day, Jo would find herself thinking about the kiss, and how she had let herself kiss back, and how (even though HE'D been the one who'd started it) if she ever mentioned it and how she actually sort of enjoyed it it would destroy their friendship forever and ever. And she couldn't slow that to happen. So she pretended it didn't happen.

Little did Jo know that Pavel was having nearly identical thoughts, and had come to the same conclusion.

Despite the fact they were both determined to keep their friendship the way it had been before— easy, relaxed, with complete trust and honesty— it was slowly falling apart. Since the kiss 'didn't happen', any time they were bothered because of it they were forced to lie. And so their trusting friendship slowly began to dissolve. The only problem was neither of them could see it.

Tara tried to figure out what had happened. She was a good friend like that. "C'mon, Jo, SOMETHING must've happened to make you two act so weird around each other! You've hardly TALKED to Pavel since the Dontarri mission."

Jo glared at her friend and slammed her PADD down on the table. "Nothin' happened, so don't ya let the goddamned subject drop!" She snarled.

"Hey," Tara said in a wounded voice. "I'm only trying to help! You don't need to be NASTY about it."

Jo looked down at the paperwork she was supposed to be filling out, and sighed. "Listen, Tar, I'm sorry. It's just... Nothing happened."

"Okay." Her friend said softly, still holding in her tears.

Jo bit her lip, feeling horrible that she'd made her friend cry. She got up and hugged Tara tightly. "I really am sorry. I... It just wasn't a very good experience for me. Don Tarr was a bitch of a planet, ya know?"

Tara laughed a little, and smiled. "Not nearly as well as you do."

The two best friends laughed, all tears and guilt forgotten.

Jo usually didn't like to celebrate her birthdays. Celebrating brought back memories of when she was a small girl, when her daddy was at home, and she was popular and happy among the other six-year-olds. After Grandma McCoy died, she became more isolated as her cleverness alienated her from her friends and her mother and Clay beat the fact she was a freak into her. Her birthday was simply a day to remember that everyone hated her, that she was alone.

Once she visited the Enterprise, things became better. On her birthday her father brought as many of her friends in as possible for her daily video call, and they sang to her and said how they wished they could send presents, and then she was alone again.

During her first two years at the Academy, Jo 'celebrated' by buying herself two cupcakes— one for herself, one for Tara— and opening the card her friend got her and said 'thank you' for the twenty dollar bill that was tucked inside.

Once the Enterprise crew was back, her father realized immediately that she didn't want a party. Instead, he invited her (and the rest of the command crew, plus Tara) to dinner. She would eat, open presents, and run home before she began to cry.

So when Jim asked her what her plans for her 21st birthday were, Jo was surprised. She hadn't even thought of it. She'd been drinking semi-regularly since she was fourteen, so she didn't really feel like she needed to 'celebrate' being of drinking age.

"I don't want to celebrate." She told him plainly. "I've been drinking for almost seven years now. It's not important."

Jim pouted. "Aw, c'mon, JoJo! You have to have a party! A big one! It's your 21st! When I turned twenty-one, I got so drunk—"

"If that was your first time drinking, than I'm a Russian." Jo said in a snarky voice.

The captain scowled in annoyance. "Well, I'd been drinking for a while, yeah, but not NEARLY as long as you! What were you, fourteen?"

Jo nodded in amusement. "I graduated a month after I turned sixteen, remember? I first found my love of alcohol when I was a junior. It wasn't THAT odd. I mean, Pavel's been drinking vodka since he was ten!"

Kirk snorted. "He's Russian. Of COURSE he's been drinking vodka since he was ten!"

They both chuckled.

Then, Jim looked at her with a piercing gaze. "WHY do you hate having birthday parties, Jo?" And there it was. He'd asked it. The question people had been wondering for years, but had never gotten the courage to ask.

She hesitated, and the memory of her standing in her birthday dress, staring at the empty room on her seventh birthday with no one there, only her mother and Grandma McCoy, that memory flashed before her eyes so suddenly that she winced.

"None of your business, Jim." She said stiffly.

The captain looked at her sadly, as if he suddenly understood. As if he had experienced it himself. "How old were you?" Jo stayed silent. "How old were you when you needed that birthday party more than anything and no one showed up?"

Jo stared at the ground, cursing the tears beginning to sting in her eyes. "Seven. I couldn't see my daddy, I'd just found out my Grandma McCoy was dying, no one talked to me at school, and I invited every kid in my grade to that party. And not ONE showed up. My momma took advantage of that, said it was because they knew I was a freak. She never gave me another birthday present after that year. I never want to have another party, because part of me is still afraid that no one will show up again, and that I'm still a freak."

Jim sighed, and laid his hand on her shoulder. "We don't have to have a party if you don't want to. We can just do our normal thing. But if you DID have a party, I promise you people would come."

Jo smiled a little, her eyes still full of unshed tears. "I know. But I... I just can't."

It is a little-known fact that the Enterprise had a bar on board the ship. Yes, it was very small, and yes, each crewman only got two drinks a week, but it was still a bar, and people loved it.

The bartender was a gruff German man with an accent so thick it made Chekov's thick Russian one sound like a slight lisp. His real name no one except the captain and Spock knew, but Spock never went to the bar and therefore never needed to use it, and Kirk didn't want to ruin the little game their bartender had begun.

Everyone called him Rhine, after the famous German river he was supposedly born by.

Rhine was as strong as Richard 'Cupcake' Hendorf, with a smooth bald head and a rather spectacular mustache. His eyes were bright sapphire blue, and he was, despite his gruff appearance and trigger-happy attitude concerning bar fights, a gentle and deeply sympathetic man.

For one thing, Rhine always remembered everyone's favorite drink. As soon as they walked in the door, he'd get out the required liquors, clarify the order, and throw the drink together. People loved him for that, so the man got excellent tips.

He also could sense when a particular crewman was having a really horrible day. After watching them for a few moments, Rhine would whip up their favorite drink (if he didn't know them, he'd just give them a good German beer), slap it down on the table, and demand to hear the story of their terrible day in his barely understandable accent. The person would drink and tell their story, and then, if Rhine decided their predicament suited their reaction, he would tell the crewman he wouldn't log it in as one of their precious drinks.

So, obviously, everyone loved Rhine. They also loved the fact that the smallish room was somehow almost always nearly empty. Despite having four hundred people on board who loved to drink, their different shifts and different free days of the week meant that only a handful were usually ever in the bar at once.

People came to Rhine's Tavern to drink, yes, but they mainly came for Rhine himself. If one wanted to get drunk, you would find someone to put the override code into the food synthesizer to allow you to get unlimited alcohol. If you wanted someone to talk to, you went to Rhine.

Joanna McCoy rarely went to the bar. For one thing, he never let her get anything alcoholic unless she was having a rotten day (she _was_ still under twenty-one). For another, she was too proud to admit that she NEEDED someone to talk to like Rhine.

So Rhine was a bit surprised when she dragged herself into the bar one night nearly two months after her conversation with Jim, a half-full synthesized bottle of bourbon in her hand, obviously already tipsy.

The bar was completely empty— but then again, it WAS midnight. He was actually about to clean up and go back to his quarters, but he wouldn't if Jo was in such a state.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss Joanna?" His accent was thick, as usual, but it also held a tone of worry.

She giggled. "Oooh, I'm twenty-one today! Hip-hip-hooray!" Then she sobered, glancing at the bottle in her hands. "I'm havin' boy troubles, Rhine. Jesus, I never thought I'd say that."

Rhine muttered something under his breath in German as he pulled out a bottle. It was bourbon— one of his special bottles of the REAL stuff he only brought out for those he deemed 'worthy.' Jo watched in surprise as he poured her a glass, and slid it across the counter to where she sat.

"What happened?" He grunted.

Jo hesitated, then began. "My daddy invited the senior officers to my birthday party. Plus Christine Chapel and Tara Trenton, of course. And afterwords, Pavel— ya know, Chekov— drew me to the side. He told me that he had decided not to hide it from me any longer, that he was in love with me, and had been for a while. And... Shit, Rhine, I'm not the kinda girl people love!"

Rhine scowled. "How so?"

"People love me, yes, but not in that way. I've never gone on a single date in my entire life. Not one! First I was too young, and by the time I was old enough, everyone I knew besides Tara and Pav hated me for being so smart. And besides, Pavel is my oldest friend. I've known him since I was ten, and he was seventeen. We're best friends, we know each other inside out. I... I _need_ him, Rhine, and I can't risk a _relationship_ fucking that up." Jo admitted.

Rhine raised an eyebrow. This girl was obviously madly in love with Pavel Chekov, but she had apparently known few happy relationships in her life and didn't want to risk hurting her, Chekov, or any potential kids. How sad.

"But what did you do? When he admitted it, I mean." Said Rhine, hoping he was keeping the pity out of his tone. He was. He'd gotten good at it during the five year mission.

Jo swallowed a mouthful of her drink, and set the glass bak down on the counter. "I... I told him that he was crazy, and that if he was going to say things like that, we shouldn't even be friends." She looked straight into Rhine's piercing blue eyes. "And THAT'S why I'm here, Rhine. Because I was so worried about _not_ _fucking up_ our friendship I completely DESTROYED it. I need Pavel, Rhine. And I tossed him away like he was a scrap for the dogs."

Rhine paused. He wasn't a man of many words. He'd learned throughout his life that his gift was listening. But this broken girl, so blindly in love with the navigator she ended their friendship just to protect them both— he needed to say something to her.

"You can try to fix it," he growled. "or you can let the best thing in your life be lost forever. Your choice. But the longer you wait, the less likely you'll ever find exactly what you need again."

Jo sighed, and put her head in her hands. "I'm gonna go sleep this off. I got early shift tomorrow— don't wanna show up drunk and dead tired."

Rhine simply nodded. He'd said his piece. And so, the German bartender watched the young woman leave the bar, and realized she'd left the synthesized bottle of bourbon behind, and left her glass of fine bourbon untouched. He smirked. What a remarkable woman.

The next morning Joanna McCoy arrived to her shift ten minutes late. She had a slight hangover, but not enough of one to have it show in her work. She couldn't hide the grimace of pain, however, when she walked into the brightly lit med bay.

Her father noticed immediately, however, and stalked over to her. "Joanna Grace McCoy, are you hungover?"

She smirked cockily, and cracked her neck. "Maybe. It WAS my 21st, Dad. Ya can't expect NOT to drink."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "That might be so, Joanna, but you should know I do not tolerate hungover nurses. Go get yourself a hangover cure immediately."

"Thanks, pops." She said mockingly, grabbing the appropriate hypo and injecting it in her arm carefully. Leonard rolled his eyes in time with his daughter, and stalked away to chew out Christine for some reason he'd probably make up on the spot.

Ten minutes later, Jim burst into the sickbay, an animalistic grin on his face. Jo noticed him first. "Captain, my Captain. What can I do for ya this fine mornin'?" She even did a mocking little bow.

Jim's grinned widened. "Hello, JoJo. Happen to know the whereabouts of your delightful grump of a father?"

Bones stepped out of his office at that exact moment. The doctor froze at the sight of Jim, slumped visibly as he knew what must be coming, and walked over. "Dammit, Jim, what NOW?"

"Ah, Bones! How delightful of you to join us!" Jim said with an actual cackle of glee. "Just came to let you know that your services are required on the away mission tomorrow."

"Shit." McCoy groaned. Jo laughed a little, then walked over to the young woman who'd walked into Med Bay limping slightly.

"C'mon, Bones. This place is almost empty, and it's not even on to an alien planet! We're just beaming onto another Federation ship for a meeting. One of the topics is improvements to be made to med bay. I need my CMO with me for that." Jim said, the grin fading as he got more serious.

McCoysighed. "Jesus Christ, fine. I'll go to the goddamned meeting. But don't expect me to go without complainin'!"

"My dear Bones," Jim began, "I wouldn't expect any less."

Leonard rolled his eyes and grabbed a PADD Christine was trying to hand him. "Who else is goin' with ya'll?"

"Spock, obviously, plus Scotty, Uhura, Cupcake, and Chekov." Jim tallied on his fingers. Satisfied, the captain nodded at his best friend. "See you tomorrow, Bones. Don't be TOO bitchy."

Leonard McCoy watched his best friend leave the room, glanced at the PADD in his arms requiring his signature, and sighed. A long day of paperwork today, and a long day of meetings tomorrow. How exciting.

The next day at 0500 hours, the small away team was making last minute preparations. Sulu had the chair until they got back at 2130 hours, something the pilot was pleased about. He enjoyed having the chair, especially when there wasn't a crisis going on and he could just relax.

Chekov, on the other hand, was NOT relaxing. The last time he'd gone on an away mission, he had been captured and tortured. So, even though this was supposed to be a nice relaxing meeting, his nerves were making his stomach churn with anxiety.

They were only waiting for McCoy, now. Jim was getting nervous. It wasn't like his friend to be late. Leonard prided himself on being painstakingly punctual. Just as Jim was about to call the doctor on his communicator, a McCoy stepped into the transporter room. This McCoy, however, was not the CMO.

Joanna paused at the surprised looks on her friends' faces. "Dad's sick. Running a high fever, lost his voice, absolutely miserable. He still tried to come, but Christine and I bodily dragged him back to bed. Chris would've come instead, but she had loads of paperwork to do. So, here I am."

Jim noticed she was carefully avoiding looking at Chekov. Had the two of them had a fight? He hoped not. Silent treatments among members of away teams always made things awkward. He glanced at Chekov, and realized to his surprise that the young man looked as though he were trying not to cry.

The last two minutes before beaming up were absolutely silent, and thus extremely awkward. The foreboding feeling in Pavel's stomach grew exponentially. He couldn't bear it if Jo got hurt.

After all, as he'd realized while hearing her scream during that fateful away mission two months ago, he was in love with Joanna McCoy, and had been since that night she spilled out the darkest secrets of her life to him nearly three years ago. So, being the damn fool he was, he told her, when he KNEW she was afraid of love, KNEW that she couldn't allow herself to fall for him and potentially damn her happiness in the inevitable breakup.

So when they beamed on board and were instantly taken to the brig at sword point thanks to the space pirates that had taken over the ship they were on, Pavel wasn't surprised one bit. He WAS surprised, however, when he, for some reason, annoyed one of them.

Yes, Pavel certainly was surprised when the annoyed pirate stabbed him in the chest after several hours of sitting in the brig.

He was very surprised when it dawned on him that he was about to die.


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Declaration

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Joanna laid eyes on her obviously ill father, she told Christine immediately. She wasn't about to let her sick father make himself worse by galavanting off to some starship whose name Jim himself couldn't seem to remember.

But when she realized Pavel was coming, she couldn't stop herself from faltering. Despite the conversation with Rhine she'd had two nights ago, she wasn't ready to try and work things out. Love was a trap, a way for you to get hurt. She'd realized that when she was a small child, and her mother had told Jo that she would hopefully never see her father again.

Yes, love was dangerous, and not to be trusted. So Jo wasn't going to let Pavel destroy himself by being around her. No, she'd rather lose him forever and keep him safe and relatively happy than let him love and have his heart broken inevitably.

Jim had noticed the fact she was ignoring Chekov. It was obvious, in the way Jim made them stand on adjacent circles on the transporter pad, and the concerned looks he kept throwing them. It annoyed the hell out of Jo, but she wasn't going to call the Captain out on it and this bring EVERYONE'S attention to the awkward game of cold shoulder taking place between the two of them.

After they rematerialized in a nearly identical room on the other ship, there was a split second where everything was normal. Then, she noticed the scabbards dangling at the men's sides, the fact none of them were wearing Star Fleet uniforms, the presence of a sword at her throat, pricking her skin just enough to let a single drop of blood fall.

Once she noticed the wetness of the blood on her throat, any thoughts of struggling were cast from her head. Even Cupcake, who looked absolutely mutinous, was stopping himself from fighting back. He didn't want to get himself— or someone else— killed. Richard Hendorf might be burly, and he might have a fairly quick temper, but he _wasn't_ an idiot.

Even when Jim was hauled off to God-knows-where, to be interrogated or tortured or both, they restrained themselves. If these pirates were able to take control of a Star Fleet ship without anyone being alerted, then they were very powerful and dangerous.

The first two hours or so were boring. They all just sat in the brig, trying to be as quiet as possible so as to not annoy the pirates and initiate an attack. They'd figured out that the pirates had taken over the ship and killed the captain. They didn't want THEIR captain to join him. Especially when Jim was in the custody of said pirates.

After a while, though, one of the pirates walked up to the door of their cell. "Hey, you. Woman." Jo and Uhura both looked up, eyes narrowed. The pirate nodded at Jo. "You. You're pretty."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't noticed." She said sarcastically.

The man evidently couldn't easily identify sarcasm. "Really? You are very pretty." He paused, searching for a pick-up line in his apparently limited vocabulary. "Not very comfortable in here. Could take you to... A more comfortable place." He finished with a saucy wink, his eyes on somewhere decidedly lower than her face.

Jo opened her mouth to turn him down, probably using large, complicated words this idiotic man wouldn't likely understand, when she noticed Pavel bristling with fury.

"Leave her alone, you—" he broke off into a stream of vicious Russian curses he had never taught Joanna. Uhura stared at him in surprise, and Spock raised an eyebrow. Scotty, who'd fallen asleep twenty minutes in, jolted awake with a confused mutter.

The pirate's eyes narrowed. "You insult me. I know Russian— I know what you say. You annoy me, little man. You know what I do to people that annoy me?"

Chekov shook his head, face beginning to pale as he realized what he'd just done.

A nasty smile crossed his face. "Come closer; I tell you."

Pavel drew closer, and Jo knew that if he didn't, the pirate would surely hurt her, or someone else. But the pirate was going to hurt him, she was sure of it. And fear was gripping her heart so fiercely she felt as though she might faint.

Once Chekov had nearly reached the bars, the pirate leaned his face in until his nose was touching the cell. "I kill them." He hissed.

"NO!" Joanna shrieked before she could stop herself. But it was too late. The pirate had thrust his sword into Pavel's chest, just under the rib cage. She could see the shining steel sticking through his back.

Someone screamed— Jo vaguely realized it was herself— and she was running at the pirate, sobbing and trying to reach the man, the monster who had stabbed her best friend.

Pavel stumbled onto the ground, sword still sticking through him, eyes wide and shocked as he choked on his own blood. His mouth formed one word, over and over. "Jo." He whispered. "Jo. **Jo.** "

Joanna was in a daze. The pirate was laughing at her, and Uhura was dragging her down to where the Russian was lying crumpled on the floor. **"Jo."** He said, tears running from his eyes and wavering in his voice. **"I'm sorry."** He was speaking in Russian. That was when Jo knew that she was going to lose him. He never spoke in Russian unless he was hurt in some way.

 **"It's okay, Pav."** She said thickly through her tears. **"You'll be okay. There's nothing to say sorry for."**

He laughed, choked on blood, and coughed a little. "Your Russian ees steell terrible." He was speaking in Standard again.

"Then teach me." Jo whispered. "Get better and teach me."

Pavel looked at her with sadness, such painful sadness. "I cennot... Unless you..." He winced, and Jo stroked his sweaty face. "Unless... You help me."

It occurred to Jo that she still had some of her medical supplies. "Nyota, pull out the sword while I hold him." She commanded. Nyota did so, and Pavel screamed. "I'm sorry, Pav, but I had I do it." She said hurriedly. Jo realized the guards had left the room. Thank God.

She pulled out supplies, closed her eyes in concentration, and went to work.

James T. Kirk was not being tortured, thankfully. He was instead being interrogated on the numbers and positions of Star Fleet ships. Having been through this before, Jim expertly gave away absolutely no information.

At some point, however, two other pirates walked into the room. Jim noticed immediately that one of them was missing the sword from his scabbard. Fear stabbed through his chest. What if one of his crew members was hurt? What if someone was—

"Sir." Said the pirate without the sword. "One of Captain Kirk's crew insulted me. In Russian. He wouldn't stop threatening me, so I stabbed him with my sword in his chest. He should be dead any minute now."

Jim felt the blood drain from his face. Chekov. In a move Kirk didn't know he had, he reached across the table, grabbed the phaser from the pirate leader's hands, and shot the three men in the room in the head.

Soon he was running through the halls, heading for the brig, where he knew his crew would be being held. Suddenly, four pirates came out of nowhere. Jim shot one in the chest, and he crumpled to the floor. The other three drew their own phasers, but Jim was already running at them with a feral scream.

He punched one in the face so fiercely his jaw shattered. The man howled and swung blindly at Kirk, hoping to him something. Jim dodged expertly and kicked him onto the ground, knocking him out.

The other two snarled simultaneously, and fired. One of the shots grazed Kirk's left arm. The other singed the hair on his head. Kirk shot one man in the face and elbowed the other in his nose, breaking it with a sickening 'crunch.' The man howled, and Jim cracked him over the head with his phaser butt, knocking him unconscious.

He caught his breath for a moment, then ran on, hoping beyond all hope that he wouldn't be too late. By the time he reached the brig, he'd had to take down seven more pirates.

Two more were in the cell, beating the living crap out of Scotty, Uhura, Spock and Jo. They were protecting the limp, bloodstained form of Pavel Chekov. His eyes were half open, and he twitched occasionally. That and his shallow breaths were the only signs he was still alive. A meager wrapping of crimson bandages covered his chest— the guards must've interrupt Jo while she was helping him.

Speaking of Jo, she looked more out of control and furious than he'd ever seen. Spock, Scotty and Uhura were simply protecting Chekov, but Jo was actively fighting back, using the skills she'd honed at the Academy to cause some serious damage.

One man swung at Jo's face. She caught his fist and twisted his arm so sharply and at such an alarming angle that Jim could hear the bones crack from twenty feet away. The pirate screamed, and his normally sweet JoJo's eyes were as hard and unforgiving as stones.

Jim decided this was enough. He burst into the cell and shot the only man still fighting in the back. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The man with the broken arm was curled in the corner, sobbing and clutching his arm.

Suddenly, Pavel's eyes opened fully, and he cried out in agony. "Jo." He gasped, and Jim saw that his teeth were stained red with blood. "Jo." She was next to him in an instant, and those eyes that had been so cold were now overflowing with emotion. He leaned forward and spoke something in Russian, something that Jim, Spock, Scotty, and even Uhura (she just hadn't gotten around to learning Russian) couldn't understand.

But Jo could.

 **"I love you."** He whispered in his native language. **"I know you don't love me back, but I love you, and I'm sorry."** And then his eyelids fluttered, and his breaths seemed to cease.

"We need to get him back to the Enterprise _now_!" She snarled, and she didn't realize she was crying until she noticed her vision was slightly blurred. " _Please_ , we can't just— we can't just let him _die_." And then she was sobbing, and her hands were on her face as her mind swirled with the events of the last few hours.

She wasn't about to let him die thinking that she didn't care for him. Pavel Chekov meant more to her than anyone else, more even than her father. But she hadn't told him that, because she was afraid. She was so, so afraid. And now he could die believing she hated him, and Jo would never forgive herself. She needed him like she needed oxygen, and if— no, _when_ he woke up— she would tell him that.

Jo suddenly realized they were outside, and that small twinkling lights were surrounding her. She must've been following in a daze, not really registering her surroundings. This set off alarm bells in her head— she was probably experiencing some major shock— but her head was spinning too rapidly for her to snap herself out of it. Of course, the fact she'd been beaten fairly violently probably didn't help either.

Everything was swimming in front of her. Voices, shouting things about stretchers and blood types and not breathing, were surrounding her. Eventually, she heard a familiar voice right in front of her. It was Tara.

"Jo?" She asked gently. With some effort, Joanna focused her eyes on the red headed girl in front of her. She was pale, and looked frightened. "Are you okay?"

Slowly, jerkily, Jo managed to shake her head 'no.' Then she looked around for Pavel, searching for any sign he might be alive, any sign that she could tell him the truth, so he wouldn't die believing the lies she'd been telling him. A gentle shaking by Tara brought her focus back to the Engineer.

"Jo, I need you to come to the Sick Bay with me, okay? You've got some bruises that Nancy and Mary want to look at." Nancy and Mary were two of the other nurses. Jo didn't like them very much— she thought they were incompetent— but they could take care of some simple bruises perfectly well.

Jo nodded her consent and followed Tara through the halls of the Enterprise, making sure to keep a firm grip on her friend's hand for fear of falling over. Even though she was thinking more clearly now, her legs still felt like jello, and it was difficult for her to not go sprinting to the operation room where Pavel hung on the thread between life and death.

After a couple minutes, Nancy was cleaning her cuts as Mary ran the dermal regenerator over her bruises. Tara hadn't left the room yet. Jo thought it might be because the girl was afraid to leave and hear news about Chekov she wasn't ready to hear.

"—hear me, Jo?" It was Nancy, asking some questions to determine her mental stability. She'd spaced off again and hadn't heard, which wasn't going to be good if Jo wanted to avoid therapy.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" She replied smoothly, hoping a smooth answer would calm the other woman's suspicions.

"I was asking if it's been hard for you to focus since beaming aboard, but I guess you answered that for me." She said tartly. Jo scowled. "Anyway, _Joanna_ , is there one subject or person your thoughts keep returning to?"

"No." Jo lied, mainly because of that _annoying bitch's_ use of her full name. "And I haven't had trouble focusing, either. I just spaced off for a second. Can I go back to my quarters or something, please? I'm not in shock, I'm _fine._ "

Nancy narrowed her eyes. Meanwhile, Mary closed up the last cut and healed the last bruise. The brunette straightened and quickly walked to the other side of the room to avoid the cat fight about to ensue. "Listen, Jo, I'm not stupid, despite what you believe. I can _tell_ a shock patient when I see one. And I know that the reason you're freaking out is because your stupid _boyfriend_ or whatever is _dying_ , but if you can just let me _help—_ "

Jo later would examine the memory, and each time she would marvel at the fact she had absolutely no memory for the next ten seconds during which she apparently put the poor nurse in a chokehold. The next thing she knew, Nancy was screaming for Mary to "SEDATE HER, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" and Tara was telling Jo to "Calm the hell down for a minute, Jesus."

About thirty seconds after that, Mary had placed the prepared hypo to the open crook of Jo's neck, and she was collapsing to the floor as the potent sedative worked its way through her system.

 **Hey, guys, Author here!**

 **I'm sorry for the long wait, but I got distracted by this Star Trek one-shot I'm writing. It may or may not be called "The Real McCoy." I think it'll be pretty good, but I'm not done with it yet, so don't expect anything soon. On the bright side, we finally finished reading the fricking Scarlet Letter in class, so I should have a bit more time to write now :). I'm working on chapter fourteen at the moment. A bit of a filler, but good (I hope.) Anyway, I really appreciate your feedback, so please review!**

 **Love you all!**

 **Trellya.**


	13. Chapter Twelve: PTSD

CHAPTER TWELVE

Before Jo awoke from the forced slumber the sedative hypo put her in, she had nightmares. Obviously. She almost always had nightmares when she slept, so when she was in shock and forced to sleep, of _course_ she'd have horrible nightmares.

 _She was back in the cell, but this time she was alone. Well, alone with Pavel Chekov's cold dead body. There was a grotesque pool of blood on the floor, and his eyes were blank and empty._

 _Suddenly, she heard his voice, but it didn't come from his body._ ** _"Why do you hate me, Jo?"_** _He was speaking in Russian, and the voice seemed to be coming from right behind her. Jo spun around, and there was his ghost? spirit? She didn't know. But he was standing there, and his eyes were so sad, and his golden shirt was covered in blood._ ** _"What did I do wrong?"_**

 _His spirit vanished, but his voice continued to echo, to haunt her._ ** _"I died for you, Jo— Why do you hate me?"_** _Suddenly, the corpse on the floor woke up and started moving, whispering her name over and over, and it started rotting and decomposing, and the jaw opened wide to swallow her, and she was screaming—_

Jo woke up with a start, and the first thing she realized (besides the fact that she wasn't in that cell anymore) was that she had restraints on her wrists and ankles. Because she'd attacked Nancy. Well, Jo thought, she kind of deserved the humiliation of restraints after attacking a fellow crew member.

Seconds after she calmed down and slumped against the medical bed, her father and Christine ran in, eyes wide. "Jo, you're awake!" The Head Nurse cried. "But you were screaming. Nightmare?"

Jo hesitated as the memory of the dream fought its way to the surface again, but forced her heart rate back down. "Yes. But… not one of my normal ones. It was… new."

Her father's face twisted as he realized what she was implying. "Pavel's not dead, Joey. It was pretty close, but the little bastard managed to pull through."

"What?" Jo said, her head spinning with the news that she might be able to tell him her feelings after all. The monster from her dream roared in her head, insisting this was a lie and that she had let him die heartbroken, but she shoved it away. "Can I see him? How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days." Christine said calmly, undoing the bindings on her arms and legs. "Now, Jo, I must ask you if you promise to be good and not attack your co-workers."

Jo laughed a little, but her heart wasn't in it. "Promise."

Leonard smirked. "About that… Nancy? Really? Surely you know she's been desperately jealous of you since takeoff?"

"Of _course_ I know!" Jo snorted. "I've always been good at reading people, but that woman is the most outspoken one I know." Then her good mood faded, and she felt the despair and fear of the incident on the pirate-controlled ship. "Is he awake? Can I see him?"

Her father looked at her with a trained eye. "Well, he _is_ awake—" Jo tried to get out of the bio bed, but Christine forced her back down. "—But he isn't taking visitors yet. He's too weak."

Jo scowled at him, eyes flashing. "So what? I'm not a visitor, I'm a _nurse_!"

"Yes, I _know_ that, Joanna Grace, but I will not allow ya to see him until I am certain that ya don' have a case of PTSD! I will not allow ya to see him and get all emotional and make things a million times worse. Just fer a couple'a days. We'll monitor yer sleep patterns, take note of any nightmares, look for more out-of-character outbursts, that sort of thing. Two days, and then I _promise_ ya can see him." McCoy finished his speech with a heavy sigh. He had a feeling he knew the reason his daughter was so distraught over Chekov's near-death-experience, but he didn't want to say anything until he knew for certain that _she_ knew herself.

Jo bit her lip, thinking. She didn't want to wait two days. Two days was ample time for her to change her mind, and that was something she knew perfectly she couldn't allow to happen. At the same time, she really didn't want to have more nightmares or PTSD symptoms. She was screwed up enough already. "Alright," she said finally, "but if he asks to see me first before the two days are up, ya let me see him."

Her father opened her mouth to say no, but Christine cut him off. " _Leonard Horatio McCoy._ "

Jo's eyes widened. Since when did Christine Chapel tell him off like her grandma used to? He cleared his throat, opened his mouth again, and spoke. "Fine." Then he stormed out, obviously more stressed about the Navigator's near-death than he was with his daughter or his Head Nurse.

Christine let out a dainty little cough. "Well, I'm going to tell you what happened while you were unconscious, as you haven't gotten around to asking me yet."

"Sorry, Chris." Jo said, but the older woman waved her off.

"No, no, nothing to be sorry about. You had other priorities." She winked, and before Jo could make a comment that Pavel wasn't her boyfriend (while ignoring the painful twinge of her heart), she continued. "We immediately operated on Chekov, of course. He needed two blood transfusions, but he lived. Anyway, Jim, Spock, Scotty and Uhura went back on board after dropping you two off and being cleaned up a but themselves. They helped the imprisoned crew members regain control of their ship and force the pirates away. Naturally, this meant a huge battle and the death of the pirate leader. Believe it or not, it was _Uhura_ who laid the final blow! The bearded bastard had knocked out Spock or something, and she just went ape-shit crazy! So she killed him, and I don't think she's even a little bit knocked up about it. Remind me _never_ to cross Nyota, Jo."

Jo smirked at the idea of Nyota killing the pirate leader instead of Jim, like everyone would expect. Of course, the woman was fiercely territorial over Spock— they'd been dating for years, and everyone knew about them by now. But even before they went public, Jo knew all about their relationship, mainly from Uhura, but even Spock would ask her advice from time-to-time over their video chats.

"I will most definitely remind you." Jo said with a laugh. "Am I allowed to go back to my quarters?"

Christine hesitated. "Yes. But you have to sleep in the medical bay for the next two nights. You heard your father."

She groaned, but nodded. Jo had a feeling she was going to have a nightmare that night, and without Pavel to help calm her down (they had quarters right next to each other, so he could hear her cries and come help), she wasn't sure if she could stand it. As Joanna McCoy left the Med Bay, she saw the small privacy room with the closed doors that held Pavel. Magically, the shades were up, and she was able to see him.

He was awake, and talking to her father. But as she slowed her pace to watch him for a moment, his eyes seemed to find her. He looked relieved, and worried by the fact she was wearing a hospital gown. He seemed ok. He seemed _normal_ , not counting his extremely pale face. Not at all like he had been lying limp in her arms only two days earlier.

Jo's eyes filled with tears whose origin she could not identify. Pavel's eyes filled with confusion, with hurt, and she ran out of the room before she could burst into sobs.

When Pavel woke up, he was confused. _Shouldn't I be dead?_ He thought. And yet, here he was, sitting in one of the coveted privacy rooms in Med Bay. His next thought was something entirely different. _Is Jo alright?_

Christine came in, saw he was awake, and beamed. "You're awake! Pavel Andreivich Chekov, you gave us quite a scare!"

"Sorry." He said in a quiet, hoarse voice that scraped from his throat. "Jo?"

Nurse Chapel's smile faded slightly. "She's alright. She's sleeping. Jo… She was in shock, and one of the nurses made a jab, so she put the unfortunate woman in a headlock. We had to sedate her, but the nurse gave her a really strong one, so she's been sleeping for as long as you have."

Chekov blanched. They'd had to sedate her for two days? "Vhat?"

"We expect she'll wake up in an hour or so. Doctor McCoy will come in and talk to you once he's certain his precious baby girl is alright." Chapel continued cheerfully.

Sure enough, just over an hour later a ruffled-looking Southern man walked into his room. He looked ruffled about something— probably Jo— but when he saw Pavel his features relaxed into relief. "Dammit, kid," he joked. "can't you go on a single away mission without getting seriously injured?"

"Vhat's ze fun een zat?" He replied dryly.

The doctor chuckled. Then his face grew more serious. "You know you won't be leaving that bed for close to two weeks, right?"

Chekov sighed heavily, a long-suffering sigh. "I suspected. Eet vas a most griewous injury, _da_?"

"Well, your heart did stop, and we were forced to give you two bags of blood, so… yeah. I'd say it was a 'grievous' injury, all right. Your heroism damn near got you killed!" McCoy hesitated, emotion rising in his throat. "You know what that would'a done to Jo?"

Pavel winced at the mention of Joanna. Jo, the girl he was in love with. Jo, the girl who almost certainly didn't love him back, who shoved him away the instant he told her the truth. "She vould have been fine." He said softly.

To his surprise, Doctor McCoy laughed. "Fine? Chris _did_ tell you she had to be _sedated_ because one of our nurses made a crack about you right?" He didn't wait for Pavel to answer, however, and plowed on. "Besides, she woke up shrieking about some nightmare. She said it wasn't one of the ones about that whore Jocelyn. Said it was something _new_ , but wouldn't say what. My bet is on _you dying_. 'Fine.'" He scoffed. "Your death would break her."

Pavel considered this, considered how this could possibly be true when she was refusing to talk to him, refusing to treat him like anything more than a distant friend when they used to be so, so close. Before his selfishness and stupidity ruined everything. "I am sorry, but I do not believe zat ees true. Jo has hardly spoken to me since her birzhday. Ees like I do not exeest. I do not know vhat to do." As he spoke, Chekov noticed movement in the window.

It was Jo, slowing her pace to look at him, and there was worry and relief at the same time in her gaze, but even as he watched, her eyes filled a sort of hollow terror and fear that he'd never seen before. This was not the raw fear and anger he saw when she spoke of her mother. This was more pure and complete.

Was she afraid of _him?_ Hurt and confusion filled him like a balloon, for he had done nothing to her. How could he? This was Joanna, the girl that he was in love with. Why would he do anything to hurt her? Suddenly, Jo's own eyes filled with tears almost to overflowing, and she ran from the Med Bay, looking as though she were about to sob.

Pavel stared at the spot where she had been blankly, feeling confused, and a bit betrayed. Leonard noticed his gaze, and turned to look at the window. Upon seeing nothing, he turned back to the bed-ridden Russian. "Jo?"

 _"_ _Da."_ Pavel whispered. Pain filled him, but it wasn't from his injury. It was in his heart, the pain of not knowing if the girl he loved would ever speak to him again. "Aiye, I miss her so much." He said quietly.

Leonard McCoy smiled sadly. Love. He had been on this ship— and in this universe in general— to know love when he saw it. If it had been a younger crewman, he would have dismissed it as young man's folly. But this was Chekov, the once seventeen year old genius ensign who even then had been as tough as nails. Chekov had never really wanted love, or so it seemed. Now, McCoy was wondering if the reason he turned down all thosse women was because he was already in love with another, a much younger woman who was his best friend and understood him better than anyone.

And Joanna was clearly in love with Pavel, too. Jo had always been tough, tough, tough, worried about her strength and ability to withstand anything thrown at her. The fact that a stab wound on one man— yes, he was her best friend, but she'd seen wounds on her friends before— had nearly derailed her meant that she cared for him more deeply than she knew.

McCoy only worried if she would ever realize it for herself, and tell him. If she didn't act soon, the poor kid's heart would shatter, and their relationship— friendship or otherwise— would be broken forever.

For the next two nights, Jo had nightmares.

She wasn't particularly surprised— no matter how much she insisted to the nurses that she was fine and dandy, Jo wasn't an idiot. She knew she was suffering from a delightful mix of shock and PTSD. The nightmares, the whole putting-Nancy-in-a-headlock thing… Jo had seen enough symptoms.

When Christine came to her quarters the next morning to ask about how the past two nights had gone, Jo tried to avoid answering. She knew that she couldn't lie to Chris for very long. "How's Pavel?" She said instead. "I was wondering that last night before I went to bed." This was true. She decided not to mention the fact she had been crying in bed for hours before that, and hadn't eaten since she had woken up in the infirmary, or the fact that she couldn't seem to bring herself to go to work.

Christine, however, seemed to notice all of this. "But you was your _sleep_?"

Jo hesitated. "It was- fine." Even to her own ears it sounded like a lie.

"Jo," Chapel said in a tired voice. "Pretending to be okay isn't going to do anything for you. Tell me what your nightmare was, please."

Jo winced, and closed her eyes. "It was about Pav, and him being stabbed. Except this time, he died. And… and then…" She took a rattling breath, feeling the tears prick at the orners of her eyes. "Jesus, I'm so stupid. He's _fine,_ he's _alive and okay,_ and I'm having goddamned nightmares. Nothing even happened to _me_ , really— I mean, I got tortured for days and I was fine, but Pav gets one stab wound and falls unconcious and _Jesus take the wheel!_ "

Christine paused, and leaned forward. "I know you're not telling me everything about your dream, but I don't really want you to. I can tell that it's really personal. Tell me— would seeing Chekov help you? Help you get rid of your nightmares, and let you eat again?" Jo stared at her, shocked she'd figured it out. "Yes, I know you haven't eaten. You're pale as a sheet, and your hands are shaking. Also, you're not drinking coffee, and it's only 8:30. I know you well enough to tell when something's up."

Jo stared down guiltily. She'd wanted to eat, to drink coffee, _something—_ but she couldn't stomach it. But at the thought of seeing Pavel, of relieving herself of the guilt that was crushing her and reassuring the fears that were consuming her, she felt her stomach growl. "Yes. I think that would help."

Christine's eyes softened in sympathy, and she stood up from the small table. "I'll convince your dad to let you see him. That would help you more than anything else, I think." Then she hesitated, and looked back. "And eat some breakfast, would you? Otherwise I'll have to report to your father that you haven't eaten for nearly twenty-four hours."

"Thanks, Chris." Jo said quietly.

Christine smiled. "Don't mention it." And she left the younger woman's quarters.

Leonard McCoy was in a particularly bad mood today. Christine knew this. She also knew that Jo was suffering from PTSD, and that Chekov was stuck in bed for another two weeks and was incredibly lonely and a bit depressed. So she decided that talking to her idiotic boss and risking getting yelled at was worth Joanna and Pavel's happiness.

"Doctor McCoy?" She said cautiously, knocking on his office door.

Silence. Then he spoke. "Christine, I would recommend leaving me the _fuck_ alone today."

Christine sighed. "Leonard, it's about Joanna."

The door opened so quickly she thought he must have warped to the door. "Come in. But be quick, I got mountains of paperwork." It wasn't real paper, of course, but a large stack of PADDS. Chapel shut the door quietly and but on her _not-taking-any-shit-from-you-today, Leonard_ face.

"Sir, it is my professional opinion that we should allow Jo and Chekov to see each other. Today, preferably." She knew that pulling the 'today' card this early was risky, but he _did_ want her to get down to business.

McCoy paused. "Why? Chekov'll be fine without seeing-"

"Joanna had another nightmare, and this time she admitted it was about him dead." Christine said blandly. His face drained of all color. "She also hasn't eaten anything since waking, nor has she drunk so much as a drop of water. She's got Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Leonard. The only reason we didn't catch it immediately is because she is such a damn good actor."

McCoy winced, and put his head in his hands. "Abused as a child, nearly died in a shuttle, tortured for days, but _one knife_ to the goddamned Navigator and she loses her shit."

Christine sighed. "She's in love with him, Leonard. You know that."

Bones bit his lip, looking like he was trying to decide whether or not to tell the truth. "Yes. I do. But just because she's got schoolgirl crush—"

"Leonard, when has Joanna Grace McCoy _ever_ had a 'schoolgirl crush'?"

McCoy froze mid sentence. He visibly deflated. His shoulders slumped. "Never."

Chapel's eyes flashed. "Exactly. Now, I know that asking for them to meet _today_ is too much to ask, so I suggest you allow this meeting tomorrow. If you would like your daughter to eat or drink something, then it is mandatory. I pleaded for her to eat before I left her quarters earlier, but I know full well that she won't."

Leonard slumped further, the picture of a man defeated. " _Fine_. Fine. Tomorrow, when he's awake, bring her in and let them talk until he's exhausted. I don't like it very much, but… I'm not stupid. I know she loves him, and I know she needs him in her life more than any other person."

Christine didn't say anything more, simply gave him a look that said 'you're doing the right thing.' Then she walked out of the office, feeling triumphant, but also worried about whether Jo could survive another nightmare if they were so horrible they made the food-loving Georgian woman feel sick even at the thought of eating.

 **Hey guys, Author here! So basically I finished chapter fourteen sooner than expected, so here's chapter twelve! This one and thirteen are rather short, so sorry about that, but fourteen is a bit longer. Things aren't looking so hot for Jo and Pav at the moment, but another chapter or two and you all will be crying from happiness. Also, in case you're wondering why I created poor Tara Trenton and then forgot her, fourteen starts a problem including her, so look forward to that.**

 **I love you guys SOOOOOOO much!**

 **Also OH MY GOD I realized that I am over 100 pages for this story on Word– holy CRAP!**

 **And I'm only 2/3 of the way done!**

 **Trellya Sigma (no I still won't say my real name)**


	14. Chapter Thirteen: The Admissions

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 _Jo was having another nightmare. But instead of taking place in the cell with that awful pirate, it was in a shuttle. A crashing one, of course._

 _She was curled in the corner, and terror was consuming her, when suddenly Chekov was there, whispering comforting words to her in Russian and wrapping his arms around her in a hug. Just as her breathing began to relax, there was a burst of flames and a shockwave that knocked her unconscious._

 _When the dream came back, she was underneath something warm and heavy. With a jolt, she realized it was the corpse of Pavel Chekov, who had died protecting her from the explosion. His unseeing green eyes stared at her, and a horrid scream welled in her throat._

 _Jo screamed and screamed, and sobbed, and she didn't realize that they had actually hit the ground until she heard the sound of metal being peeled away by someone. She looked up and shouted for help, but when the faces of her rescuers were shown, her terror only increased._

 _Jocelyn and Clay. Jocelyn had died, and her flesh was rotting, but she was still grinning grotesquely at the dead body of Jo's best friend. Clay, on the other hand, was still alive and well, and his strong arms seemed to grow stronger even as she looked at them. They reappeared in front of her, and then she was being beaten by both Clay and her undead mother._

 _Jo screamed for Pavel, cried for him to save her, but he couldn't— he was dead. Then she heard a tiny voice in her head, sinister and twisted, but still recognizable. It was Pav's voice._

 _"If you hadn't been so selfish, I might have lived."_

Jo woke up screaming and sobbing, tears pouring down her face so hard she was practically blind. Normally, Pavel would already be in her room, comforting her and wiping her tears away. But he was in the sick bay, recovering from a near-fatal stab wound.

The dream had been worse than any other she had had in her short, yet nightmare-filled life. It was all of her worst fears, the three things that kept her up at night, mixed together with her guilt. The guilt and fear that Pavel's injury had been all her fault.

The thought made her nauseous. Jo got up and sprinted to the toilet, and got there an instant before she vomited. It wasn't much, mostly bile— after all, she hadn't eaten for three days— but it burned her throat and made her eyes sting with fresh tears. She couldn't even hit the flush. All she could do was cry.

After what seemed like days but what was really a half an hour, there was a knock at the door. "JO?!" It was Christine, and she sounded like she was panicking. "Are you alright? Chekov said something was wrong!"

Jo froze by the toilet, wiping her mouth. He had told Nurse Chapel that something was wrong, and then had insisted she go and check on her? Her heart swelled. Even in the med bay he could tell when she wasn't okay.

"Jo? JO! Open UP!" Christine shouted. Her voice was getting more panicky by the second.

Suddenly, Joanna found she finally had the strength to move. She ran to the door and unlocked it. "Hi."

"Hi?!" The blonde woman shrieked. "HI?! Your best friend wakes me up in the goddamned _witching hour_ , telling me you've had a horrible nightmare and need help, before _forcing_ me to come over, and you don't say anything for so long I think you've _died,_ and when you finally open up, all you say is _HI?!"_

Jo winced. Tears prickled in her eyes. "I- I just couldn't find the strength to move. It was so— oh, Chris, it was so horrible!" And then she burst into tears. Christine looked horrified that she had lost her cool and made her boss's daughter, who was one of her best friends, cry. The woman quickly enveloped the sobbing younger woman in a hug, and stroked her hair.

"Shh, shh, it's alright Jo, honestly. Listen, you get into your uniform and come with me to the med bay now, and I'll make everything better." Christine soothed.

Jo sniffed and frowned. "I don't want any drugs to 'make me _feel_ better', if that's what you mean."

The head nurse laughed. "No. I mean that I'm going to let you talk to Pavel for a while. I can tell that you want to."

A feeling of joy spread through her body like coffee after you take a sip on a cold day. She shoved Christine away and made to close the door. "Give me one minute." She promised, and then she slammed the door shut and flew around the room, getting dressed and grabbing a cup of coffee, because suddenly her appetite was back, and _Jesus_ she was starving!

When Chekov woke up, he knew instantly that Jo had just had a nightmare. A bad one. One that was going to haunt her for weeks if he didn't act fast. First he tried standing up, but the resulting pain in his chest knocked the wind out of him. So he did the next best thing; he called Christine. Chekov pressed the small button next to him. "Christine, get in here, quick!"

She came running in a few minutes later, eyes heavy with sleep, her uniform sloppy and out of place. "What? What is it? I swear to God, Chekov if y—"

"Jo's had a nightmare." He said plainly. She shut up instantly. "A bad one. Normally when she has nightmares I go to her. That's why these ones have been so bad lately. But this one takes the cake. You have to go and make sure she's okay."

Chapel's face twisted in annoyance. "You woke me up to go check and see if Jo had a nightmare?"

Pavel couldn't help it. He scowled. "I don't want you to _check._ I _know_ she had a nightmare, and I _know_ it was bad. I don't know how I can tell, but I just… can."

The Head Nurse's face softened slightly. "I— alright. I'll go."

Suddenly, Pavel's head spun, and he felt sick. Somehow he knew that Jo had just thrown up. She'd never thrown up before. "She just threw up. Go _now._ " The panic in his voice must have finally spurred the exhausted nurse to move. Something in her face changed, and she ran out of the room, her footsteps fading quickly.

Pavel sunk back into his bed, an uneasy feeling still filling him. He hated that he couldn't go and comfort her. Every instinct was telling him to get up and run, to hug Jo and make her a cup of hot chocolate like her grandma used to make her before she died, to help her never, ever have a nightmare like that again.

Because he was almost certain that the nightmare had involved _him._ In what way, he wasn't sure, but that didn't change the fact that he was almost certain that the girl he loved was having nightmares about him, and it broke his heart. He thought of the way she'd ran away after their eyes met through the glass the day they'd both woken up. Had he done something to make her frightened of him?

Chekov's heart filled with despair at the thought, and he felt a sob welling in his throat. He pushed it away. He wasn't going to let himself cry over something he'd done wrong. He was going to help Jo, help her get back to her normal self, because she'd had a week and a half of hell thanks to him, and Pavel was the only one who could fix it.

 _Unless,_ said a small voice in his head, _she finds someone else._

"NO." He said aloud, and the voice was banished. But that niggling thought, the fear that maybe, just _maybe_ , Joanna McCoy didn't need him anymore wouldn't leave. Just as he was about to give in and let himself cry, because he was starting to realize that though he didn't admit it to himself, he needed Jo as much as he hoped she needed him, there was a knock at the door of his private room.

 **"Come in."** He said. An instant later, he realized he'd spoken in Russian. "I mean, come een." He ammended quickly.

A moment later, Christine entered. "You okay?" She said in a concerned tone. "You spoke in Russian."

"I em fine." He said gruffly.

She shrugged. "Fine by me." Then she paused, an a mischevious look came onto her face. "I brought someone to see you."

He wrinkled his nose. "Eef eet ees Doctor McCoy, zhen you do not need to be meesterious. Tell him he can-" he supplied a very rude phrase in Russian as Christine walked away chuckling. If Jo had been here, he thought wistfully, she would have laughed.

A moment later, muffled giggles sounded from outside the door. "Pav, that's not very nice! Daddy didn't do anythin' to ya!"

The sound of her laughter, and the sight of her as she pulled into his view, and the way she visibly relaxed at the sight of him, brought a huge smile to his face. **"I missed you."** He said softly in his native language, because now that Jo was here he could speak to her in it.

 **"And I, you."** She replied. She paused. **"I've been having nightmares."**

 **"I know."** He replied.

Her face deflated slightly. **"They're about you."**

 **"I thought as much."** Chekov said. His happiness began to disappear. **"Did I do something to you?"**

She looked horrified at this, and for a moment he thought he was right. When she spoke, it was in English. "Done something? Jesus, no! I'm not having nightmares about you hurting me, Pav. I'm having them about you _dying._ "

It felt like someone had slapped him awake. "You…"

Jo paused, her face grew tight. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "I love you."

Silence.

Then, he worked up the courage to speak. "Really?" There was no way. She had shoved him away, she had left him alone, but he had loved her anyway. There was no way that she could possibly love him.

"Really." She swallowed and smiled hesitantly. "I've just never trusted love, you know? My parents divorced, and I thought they loved each other. Now they hate each other. So I… I've always thought that every long-term relationship has to end in heartbreak. And I couldn't stand the thought of me screwing everything up and breaking your heart. But I broke your heart anyway by shoving you away."

 **"I forgive you."** He said gently, staring her right in the eyes and smiling. **"I was never angry at you. Only afraid."**

She wrinkled her brow. **"Afraid?"**

Pavel laughed, and reached out his hand. Instantly she was holding it, and her _thereness_ , her _affection_ , made all the worries and fears of his heart melt away. **"Afraid that you didn't need me anymore."**

Her eyes melted. **"You of all people should know that I need you more than I let on."**

He giggled at her poor pronunciation. "I really must teach you better Russian."

She stuck out her tongue. "Well, I don't giggle when _you_ talk!"

"True." He admitted, a tiny smile growing on his lips. Their relationship was already back to its normal state, a comfortable affection that made everything better and both of them so much happier. As she sat next to him, holding his hand and rubbing the back gently, he wanted to kiss her.

They'd kissed once before, during the awful time he and the two McCoys were captured and tortured. But that hadn't been a kiss of love and affection— not really. It had been full of fear and desperation, desperation to have a moment of happiness in a time of such terrible darkness.

"Jo…" He said softly, leaning his head against her side. His eyes closed. Even though he wanted to kiss her, it had been an exciting morning, and it was only 4:30 am, and he was exhausted. "I kind of vant to kees you."

She chuckled softly and rubbed his head in a soothing motion. "You're tired. Take a nap. When you wake up, get Christine to come get me, and I promise to give you a good morning kiss."

It was astounding, really, how effortlessly their relationship had shifted. It was as though they had been a step away from love for years, and they had finally crossed the line. Pavel loved the feeling of her around him, her reassuring breaths so close by. His eyes began to sag, and he wished this moment would last for an eternity… but he slipped away into a beautiful dreamworld, full of smiling and laughing and Jo.

After Pavel fell asleep, Christine came in. She saw their position- Pavel's head in her lap, Jo stroking his hair and smiling- and nodded knowingly. "It's about time you admitted it. You've both been denying it for so long we thought you'd fall apart instead of letting yourselves love each other."

"We?" Jo said quietly, so as to not wake up the sleeping man.

Chapel laughed so quietly it was more like a release of breath. "Your father, of course. He's been waiting for a declaration of love ever since your graduation."

Jo hesitated. "Does he approve, or is he still unsure? He would always tell me to never date when I was in Georgia." At the time, she had never even considered it. For one thing, why would she need a boyfriend when she had a best friend in Pavel? For another, it was too risky. A person in the flesh would potentially see her bruises. And then, of course, there was the fact that no one talked to her. They hated her and shunned her. Why would they date her? But as she'd grown older, and she still didn't want to date, she'd begun to wonder why she had no desire. Of course, now she realized it was because she'd always only had eyes for one person- Pavel.

"I think that he approves, but he won't admit it to himself. Of course, once I tell him that you ate after meeting Chekov, I'm sure he'll at least grudgingly allow you two to date." Christine said dryly, holding out a large muffin and a cup of coffee, which she had been hiding behind her back.

Jo grinned, and looked like she was about to get up, when she remembered the young man whom she loved sleeping on her lap. At the thought, her gaze softened into a loving smile, and she shrugged. "You might have to come and give it to me."

Christine did so, handing her the large blueberry muffin and coffee with a curious expression on her face. After Jo took a bite of the muffin and a sip of her coffee (one sugar, no cream), the head nurse spoke. "Would he wake up if you stood up right now?"

"No." Joanna said with another, more tired shrug. "But if I leave, his dreams would take a turn for the worse. He hasn't slept well like this for months." She hesitated, a hint of guilt on her features. "I'm not as good at comforting him as he is at comforting me." She shrugged, and finished both muffin and coffee.

Chapel shook her head in disbelief, and turned around to grab herself a glass of water, in awe at the relationship the two shared. "You can tell he's having good dreams, and he can tell you're screaming from a nightmare even when he's halfway across the ship. This is unreal."

No reply. She turned back around to see that Joanna McCoy had fallen asleep as well. Seeing their peace made her smile, and instantly decided she wasn't going to let Leonard come in and disturb them. _Leonard_. Christine checked her watch, and sighed in relief. It was only five-thirty AM. Leonard would just be waking up. He wouldn't have to be told that Chekov and Jo had finally admitted their love for each other just yet.

Finishing her glass of water, Christine turned around and closed the blinds to the private room. _They should be allowed to sleep in peace,_ she thought. Casting one more serene glance over her shoulder at the sleeping couple, Christine Chapel left them alone at last.

Leonard McCoy awoke in a stunningly bad mood.

He wasn't sure why, but from the instant he awoke to his alarm shrieking in his ear, 'Bones' knew that he was in a fantastically bitchy mood. He then proceeded to throw said alarm clock across the room, shattering it into several pieces. "Damn thing." He grumbled. He'd have to ask Scotty for a new one.

He slowly got changed into his blue uniform, replicated a cup of coffee, and then made the march through the wakening halls of the _Enterprise_ , scowling at anyone who dared to smile, laugh, or say hello. The instant he entered the med bay, the chittering of his nurses was silenced. They could sense they were in for a hell of a day.

McCoy didn't say anything. He simply walked over to the room where he assumed Chekov would be sleeping. Just a quick check-up. To his surprise, however, Christine Chapel blocked his path. "What the hell, Chapel?" He snarled. "Get the fuck out of my way."

"You can't go in there yet, Leonard." She said firmly. "Not until you let me explain a few things. A lot happened last night."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Like what?"

Christine glanced around the room, noting the nurses that were pretending they weren't hanign on every word she said. "I can't say anything here. Too many ears."

McCoy snorted. "This is ridiculous. Fine. We'll go into my office, and you can tell me what goddammned things happened last night."

As soon as the door shut behind them, he sat down in his swivel-chair (he'd had to fight tooth and nail to get that chair this mission) and glared at Chapel expectantly. "Well? Talk."

She gave him a look that very clearly said 'what's your problem?' and then began. "At three-thirty AM, Chekov woke me up, saying that Jo had just had an awful nightmare, and since he couldn't go comfort her, I had to go and make sure she was alright. Just before I left, he got very pale, and said that she had just thrown up. So I went, and sure enough, she had thrown up after having what she said was one of the worst nightmares she had ever had in her life. I decided that I couldn't do enough for her, and that the best solution would be to take her to see Pavel, since he was awake anyway."

"YOU WHAT?" McCoy shouted.

Christine winced. "Honestly, Leonard, I don't see why you're so upset. We had planned on letting her talk to him today anyway, and technically four AM is today. And only twenty minutes or so after talking to him, she ate a muffin and drank some coffee! Let me remind you, she hadn't eaten for more than forty-eight hours!"

Leonard felt his anger fade slightly. "The whole muffin?"

" _Yes,_ Leonard, I said that. She enjoyed it, too, I could tell. And she drank that coffee in about two minutes." She paused. "She fell asleep a minute later, but she did eat."

McCoy's eyes narrowed. "She fell asleep in Chekov's room?"

"Well, yes." Chapel admitted. "Chekov still hasn't completely recovered, and he fell asleep on her lap. I gave her some food, and she fell asleep a minute later. I'm not surprised at either of them, poor dears." She said fondly. "It's been an awful week for both of them."

McCoy had had enough. He stood up and marched out of his office. He was going to see if his head nurse was telling the truth, and his daughter and the navigator were both _sleeping_ in a _hospital bed._

Slowly, Leonard cracked open the door to Pavel Chekov's private room. What he saw made all his anger and annoyance rush out of him. Jo and Chekov were both curled up on the bed, their faces peaceful and calm. He hadn't seen Jo look so happy in sleep for years, since she was a tiny girl before the divorce.

They'd admitted their love, he realized. That's why Christine let Jo fall asleep there, when she would normally get a couple of the nurses to transfer the sleeping individual to their quarters. For a moment he felt the overwhelming protectiveness of a father toward their daughter, but then he sighed.

Whatever words he would have to say to her— to both of them— could wait until they woke up. It would be best to let them sleep.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. SERIOUSLY, I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE TIME WENT.**

 **And so, half as an apology and half as a belated Christmas/Holidays/Winter Break present, I am uploading this chapter... AND the next one.**

 **HOWEVER, this is the end of my stockpiling, so updates may be slightly slower (though hopefully more often than two months. God, I never thought I'd become one of those authors that never updates their story). Also, I don't 100% know where the story's going to go after the next chapter that I've started to write.**

 **Anyway, I know no one ever reads this but...**

 **THANK YOU TO ALL WHO HAVE COMMENTED, ESPECIALLY THE LOVELY tanseynz.**

 **(Also I know that McCoy seems awfully OOC sometimes, but that's because he is letting his love for his daughter interfere with his work. Don't worry, it'll be addressed in the next couple of chapters. And that parts of this are medically inaccurate. But hopefully it's good enough for now, and maybe some day I'll make it better.)**

 **Thank you for reading this INCREDIBLY LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE,**

 **Trellya Sigma**


	15. Chapter Fourteen: What Tara Saw

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Pavel woke up first. For a moment, he was confused— he hadn't slept so well in years. Then he noticed the warmth laying next to him, and the rise and fall of a pajama-clad chest. Joanna. Of course he'd slept well. Jo was with him. Jo, too, looked unusually peaceful as she lay there asleep, a small smile on her face.

He gently touched her face, and with a small cat-like noise, she awoke. "I em sorry. I deed not mean to vake you." Pavel said softly, a tiny grin on his face as she blinked sleepily at him. "You deed not mean to fall asleep, I assume?"

"Nope." Jo said tiredly, voice thick and peaceful. "Complete accident. Was gonna wait 'til ya got up, but I guess I drifted off."

He laughed. "Zhere ees no same in zhat! You needed ze sleep, especially after zhat nightmare."

Jo crinkled her brow and sat up a bit on her arm. "How _did_ you know I was having that nightmare? Or that I threw up? It doesn't make any sense."

Pavel shrugged. "I do not know. All I know ees zhat I alvays know vhen you are hawing a nightmare. I wake up, and I cen sense your fear. Zees time, zhough, I could not go to you myself."

"Hmm." Jo said, cuddling herself into his arms, eyes closed. "I guess you're like my soul mate or something."

"I do not beliewe een soul mates." Pavel said instantly.

Jo frowned, and opened her eyes, gazing up at him in confusion. "Why?"

"I…" He paused, not entirely sure what to say. "Eef zhere are soul mates, zhen vhy do people fall out of love? Eet makes no sense."

Jo hesitated, and propped herself up on one arm. "I think there are soul mates, but I think it's incredibly rare for ya to find yours. I mean, look at us. You're from Russia, I'm from Georgia, you're seven years older than me, and we've been friends for over ten years. What're the odds? I believe that people settle for someone else, and often times, it doesn't work out."

Chekov remained silent as he digested this. Her words made sense, but part of him was still slightly repelled by the fanciful idea of 'soul mates', or whatever they were. "Vell, vhether zhey exeest or not, ve are meant for each ozher." He paused, and brought his face closer to hers. "Cen I hawe zhat keess now?"

Jo smiled at him, her eyes soft and happy, and she raised her head to his so their foreheads were touching and their noses just barely skimmed each other. "I don't see why not…"

Just as their lips touched, the door opened. "What the- JOANNA GRACE, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Jo winced, and pulled away. Both of them scooted awkwardly away from the other, but still remained close enough that their hands brushed. Her father, meanwhile, looked like he was trying to decide how angry he should be. Eventually, the steam in his face subsided slightly, and he sighed. "Jo… I'm not saying you _can't_ kiss him, but can you find some other place, that's _not_ in my Sick Bay." Even as he said it, he looked as if he were in physical pain over admitting that he was okay with the idea of _them._

Jo smirked slightly to help her get over her embarassment at being caught kissing her best friend (boyfriend?) in Sick Bay. "Well, I can't stay single forever. You didn't have to lecture me about boys in high school, but I'm finally growing up. It only took, what– ten _years_ for me to get a man?"

Chekov stiffened in surprise and leaned over to her. "Are ve dating now?" He whispered.

"I don't see why not." She whispered back mischeviously. Then something occured to her. "Jim's going to be rubbing it in for _years._ "

Leonard cleared his throat in annoyance. "Now, Joanna, are you okay to go get into your uniform and work for a while? There was another goddamned accident in Engineering, and there's a _shitload_ of burns and lacerations."

Jo hesitated, and glanced at the relaxing Navigator beside her. He rolled his eyes and pushed her. "Go. I vill be fine. I haf been seeting here for days, a few more von't hurt me."

"Okay." She kissed him on his forehead, marveling at how natural the simple gesture felt to her. "Don't be stupid."

"I von't." He laughed. Then his face changed for a second, something more serious, but gentle and happy. When he spoke, it was in Russian. **"I love you, Jo. Now go to work."**

She nodded and walked to the door. Suddenly, she turned around, the same tenderness in her eyes that had been in Pavel's moments before. **"I love you too, Pav."**

After the door shut on Pavel, her father cleared his throat. "What was it you two said back there?"

"None of your business." She said briskly. Russian was her and Pavel's thing. She didn't want someone butting in and ruining everything. "I'll be back in half an hour."

Her father frowned. "Half an hour? All you have to do is change your–"

"I have to change, shower, fix my hair, put on makeup, eat some food, and get another cup of coffee down me. Half an hour is rushing." She said disdainfully. "Like I said. Half hour. Goodbye. Don't bitch to Pav, or anything."

Exactly thirty minutes later, Joanna McCoy walked through the door, looking more happy and alive than she had for the past week. "Hello, Christine. Is there anything you need done? Dad just made me go back to work."

Christine hmmed in thought and set down the PADD she was holding. "Well, a couple of these idiot Engineers need their bandages changed. Chemical burns. Nasty stuff."

Jo nodded in consent and went to work. It was exhilarating, being able to work again without guilt or conflicted emotions weighing on her shoulders. Instead of chewing out the injured Engineers in a true McCoy fashion, she lightly scolded them and changed their bandages while humming a tune from her childhood.

Just as the last of the bandages was changed, the Med Bay doors opened. Turning around, Jo saw that it was Tara, clutching her hand and in tears. Jo gently led her friend to an empty bio bed, and began examining her wrist. "You've broken two bones in your wrist. Both still in place– only hairline fractures, really. It should be a simple Osteo-Regenerator job, but I'll get Doctor McCoy over here quick to double check."

Tara nodded, then grinned mischeviously through the pain. "I see you're all happy now. Did you an Pavel come to an understanding, then?"

Jo scowled at her friend for a moment. "I– oh, alright, yes, we did. Now, I need to get my dad. Sit still, I'll be back in a moment. _Don't be stupid._ " She walked over to her father's office and knocked on the door. "Dad, I'm pretty sure Tara broke her wrist. Can you check so I can start with the Osteo-Regenerator job?"

Her father sighed, and stood. "Alright. I've got shit loads of paperwork to do though, so I'll make it quick." He walked over to his daughter's best friend and raised his eyebrow. "Again? What is this, the third time in two weeks? You need to be more careful. Honestly, you're lucky that we have a regenerator, or you'd still have a cast on from the _first_ time!"

After gently probing her wrist for a few moments, he nodded to Jo. "You were right, her wrist's broken. Two sessions, one today, one tomorrow, fifteen minutes each. Now, I gotta go do paperwork. Chekov's near death left me with _stacks_ of PADDS to fill out."

Jo smirked and pulled out the Osteo-Regenerator. "This will hurt a bit, but you probably know that by now."

Tara hissed at the pins of pain shooting through her wrist. "Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm used to it! God, that hurts!"

Jo frowned. "Then stop breaking bones. I know you; you're one of the most careful, steadiest engineers I know. Why're ya hurting yourself so much lately?"

Tara bit her lip and looked down at the regenerator, wincing at a stronger wave of pain from the healing bones. Jo had never seen her friend look so ashamed, or so reluctant to tell her something, in the nearly five years she had known her. "Tara Theresa Trenton. Tell me what's been going on _now._ "

"It's not that big of a deal, Jo, really…" She said in a pleading voice. "I mean, I've been working on more difficult things, and sometimes I fall or drop something. Seriously, it's not an issue."

Jo shifted the positioning of the Osteo-Regenerator and broke eye contact. "Bullshit."

"What?"

She looked up again, her eyes glowing fiercely. "You heard me. _Bullshit._ I know you, Tara, and you're not that type of person. Either you're doing it on purpose, or someone's blackmailing you, or someone's doing it _to_ you. So tell me. I'm not afraid to get Pavel, or Dad, or Christine."

Tara winced, and hurt flashed across her face, closely followed by defeat. "Fine. I'll tell you. But not here. Too many listening ears. I don't want–" her voice cracked. "I don't want anyone to know."

Jo stared at her friend, her anger and standoffishness transformed into compassion. With soft eyes, she removed the regenerator. The fifteen minutes were up. "Come back tomorrow, same time. Oh, and I need to give you a sling so you don't damage your wrist more. The bones aren't fully healed yet." She ran over to the closet of supplies and came back holding the appropriate item. Then she hesitated. "I'll be over after dinner; my shift doesn't get over until just before, and I want to eat with Pavel. But then you can talk to me about this… whatever it is."

Tara nodded almost curtly, and walked out of the medical bay wearing the sling on her arm. As she watched her go, Joanna wondered how she had become so alienated from her friend in such a short period of time.

Joanna McCoy walked into the med bay holding two trays of food. One held the type of food a Southern child would grow up eating, the other the types of things Russian children often enjoyed. The first thing she noticed was that Pavel was no longer in his private room. Instead, he was sitting on one of the open beds, sitting up and chatting with Hikaru Sulu. Jo hadn't talked to the helmsman in ages– she'd been so busy and so confused.

"Hikaru!" She said cheerfully, walking over to the two and setting Pav's tray beside the Russian in question, who visibly perked up. "It's been a long time. How are you? How're your plants?"

"I'm good. Plants are doing well, fencing going well, etc, etc. But honestly, I'm just happy that you're feeling better. Last I heard, you hadn't eaten in almost two days." He said in a worried voice.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, but PSTD is a bitch. I wasn't actually hungry until after I saw Pav. Then I actually ate a muffin and got a bit of sleep. So that was good."

Sulu nodded, then frowned as though something had just occured to him. _Here we go,_ Jo thought dryly. _The big question._ It was inevitable, really. People had joked about it for years, so now they were starting to wonder if maybe it was true.

"Are you and Pavel…?"

"Yes." Jo said at the same time Chekov said, "Da."

"Who admitted it first?" He asked, his face curiously calm and straight.

Chekov frowned. "Techneecally, me, but she vas ze von to admeet eet today."

For a moment, nothing. Then, with a great whoop, he clapped his hands and stood up. "Damn, Uhura and Scotty owe me _so_ much money! Jim and I are gonna be rich!"

Jo gaped as she realized what he'd just said. "Hikaru Sulu, did you guys _bet_ on us?"

He grinned. "Scotty and Uhura were convinced that you, darling Joanna, would be the first to admit it, but Jim and I knew that Pavel would be the one. Ha! They're gonna be _pissed._ It'll be _great!_ "

Jo narrowed her eyes, and casually cracked her knuckles. "Well, Sulu, I think it's time for you to go. Tell Jim, Nyota, and Monty that we said hi."

Slowly, the smile faded from the Asian's face, and he ran out of the med bay, cursing under his breath in an interesting mixture of Japanese and Standard. As soon as he was gone, the last few nurses left quietly dismissed themselves, leaving Jo and Pavel completely alone, as it had been a fairly quiet day with no serious injuries.

"Let's eat, shall ve?" Chekov said with a small smile, motioning to the space beside him in the bio bed. He paused, and grinned at the sight of some of his favorite dishes. And then he saw the dessert, which was not Russian in any way and stuck out like a sore thumb. "Ees zhat pecan pie?"

Jo nodded. "Special from the kitchen today. Dad and I were fighting to get the first pieces. Southern classic, you know. Even better, it's Grandma McCoy's recipe, since Dad made the cooks learn it after the last time they tried and failed with some shitty New York recipe."

Chekov smiled and took a bite of the pie first. He closed his mouth as the delicious flavors danced on his tongue, and swallowed a moment later. "Zhat ees ze most deeleecious thing I haf ewer eaten een my life."

Jo giggled, and placed her head on his shoulder. She didn't say anything, though. She didn't need to. She simply let her amusement and affection saturate the air around them, until there was a near palpable cloud of happiness surrounding the two of them. Eventually, she lifted her head and finally started eating.

Unlike Pavel, she saved her pie for last. She was somewhat wary, actually, as she hadn't tasted Grandma McCoy's Famous Pecan Pie since the woman had died when she was young. Her mother had absolutely refused to cook it, and her father was lousy at baking. As soon as the first forkful touched her lips, she was overwhelmed with memories of her slightly miserable childhood, made better by her grandma and some pie until the pie was what she was eating when she was first told that Grandma McCoy was dying. That soon she would be alone. A mix of sadness and happiness swirled inside her, fighting for the top.

Jo shoved these memories back to a safer part of her mind. By eating this with Pavel, she was making new memories, and wiping away the bad. So, Joanna allowed herself to smile, and peck her boyfriend– _boyfriend,_ she loved that word– on the cheek. He blushed adorably (even at 26, he acted like the innocent 17 year old she had first known) and set aside his empty tray.

" **I love you.** " He said gently.

She rested her head on his shoulder once more, smiling serenely and bathing in happiness. " **And I, you.** "

Jo didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay there with Pavel forever, but she was had to leave. She needed to talk to Tara, and figure out what was going on with her friend. Now that she thought about it, she and Pavel had been practically ignoring Tara for weeks, maybe even longer. That was plenty of time for something bad to happen.

She knocked on Tara's door, and she couldn't help but notice the sinking feeling that her cheerfulness and peace would quickly evaporate once Tara told her story.

Tara answered quickly, to Jo's surprise. "Come in." Said her friend. She was still wearing her sling, and seemed completely wiped out, physically and emotionally. "I have a bit of a story to tell, and I have to work the graveyard shift starting at midnight. I need all the sleep I can get."

Jo sat down on a chair in the corner of the small single room (muxh smaller than her own, she noted) and cast her medically trained eye on her friend. Even earlier, she had not noticed how her friend really was.

Tara's eyes had dark smudges under them like bruises, her usually silky hair was frizzy and disheveled, her cheeked were more hollowed than Jo would have liked, and her smile was strained and shaking.

"I saw something." Tara said suddenly. There was a dull terror deep in her eyes as she spoke, like she wasn't supposed to tell. Fear for her friend struck Jo like lightning. What did Tara Trenton see? "One night in Engineering, on graveyard shift, I heard some strange noises. So I went to see what they were."

Jo could imagine it. The worried and compassionate Tara, hearing something and going to make sure they were alright. "It was two of the crewmen. They were attacking some poor Ensign, killing him. You remember that ensign that died about a month ago?"

Jo remembered. It had been a huge scandal, as the young Ensign Sanders had clearly been murdered. However, no one had been able to pin down a culprit, so the case had had to be dropped. "You're telling me you _witnessed_ the Sanders Murder, and you didn't tell anyone? You didn't do anything?"

"I tried to stop them. I ran out and started fighting them, but they overpowered me. They were going to kill me too, but they knew I was friends with you, and they didn't want to be found and attacked by you. Instead… they said that they would kill me, and Pavel, and you if I told, and every time they saw me trying to tell someone they would punish me." Tara's voice was a whisper, ashamed and wavering. "Everytime I try, they break one of my bones. A leg, an arm, a wrist… And they told me that next time it would be my neck."

Jo was on her feet, shaking with anger. "Those… those goddamned… When I find them, I'll… I'll…" She couldn't speak, she was so furious. Eventually, she let out her breath and sucked another one in. "Who were they, Tara? Tell me, so I can turn them bastards in." Her accent was much thicker than normal.

Her friend's face was pale and sickly-looking. "I can't. They'll kill me, too. They'll snap my neck and then come after you and Pavel. I can't tell you."

Jo stepped closer to her, face deadly serious. "Listen to me. These guys have threatened you, have killed a man, and have broken your bones on _three_ occasions. Ya need to tell Jim or Hendorff _tonight,_ before they take advantage of your silence and kill someone else. Please, Tara. We'll protect you, I promise."

Tara closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were filled with tears. "Okay. Tonight, before I lose my nerve." She bit her lip uneasily. "But if one of you gets hurt, I'll never forgive myself."

Jim Kirk was sitting in his office, filling out reports for Star Fleet. Specifically, the report about Pavel Chekov's near death and Joanna McCoy's PTSD. He'd heard a whispered rumor that She and Chekov were dating now, but he wouldn't believe it until he heard from a reliable source.

There was a knock. "Come in." He called, not looking up from the PADDS on his desk.

"Captain, I have some awesome news." It was Sulu, trying desperately to sound official. "Seriously, you and I just won _tons_ of money."

Jim paused, looked up from his paperwork. "They didn't."

He grinned widely, glee making him seem almost manaical. "They DID. He admitted it DAYS before she did, apparently."

"So that's why they were so awkward before we beamed down?" Jim said thoughtfully, remembering how far they stood apart, how they avoided each others' gazes, how Chekov looked on the verge of tears. "That explains a lot."

Sulu smirked in triumph. "We're gonna get enough credits to buy a… I don't know, a condo on a beach or something!"

He laughed, remembering that drunken night with the four of them. "Why _did_ we each bet two thousand credits on this? Most of the night's a blur, all I remember that card game and doing the macarena with Scotty."

Sulu frowned, trying to remember himself. "I think that Uhura was the one to suggest the bet, but why we each put in two thousand credits is beyond me. As to the macarena thing, I don't remember that at all… But I think I had a huge fight with Uhura about which Jedi Knight is the better– Obi Wan Kenobi or Qui Gonn Jinn."

Jim snorted. "Obviously Qui Gonn. He–"

The there was a knock at door. Their cheerful banter subsided, and Jim motioned for Sulu to get the door for him. The pilot complied, and to both of their surpise, Joanna McCoy and Tara Trenton were standing outside. Jo looked angry about something, but the way she stood protectively at her friend's shoulder showed it wasn't Tara who was at fault. In contrast to the young engineer's cheerful, confident self, she was practically cowering into Jo's shoulder, and she kept glancing down the halls, as though looking for someone.

Kirk frowned, worried. "Tara! Jo! Come in. Sulu here was just leaving." He cast a pointed stare at the Asian, who nodded qickly and stepped out of the small office, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door closed, both women visibly relaxed. Jo's protective stance faded, and some of the fear faded from Tara's eyes. What could have scared the two so badly when Jo and Pavel had just admitted their love? "What can I do for you?"

Instead of introducing the topic of her complaint, like most would do, Tara launched straight into her story in an odd wavering voice that was quite unlike her usual strong one.

 _Tara Trenton is on Graveyard Shift, much to her chagrin. Instead of a good night's sleep, she gets to wander through Engineering at the 'wee hours of the night', as Scotty puts it, when almost nobody is around, fixing anything that breaks as best she can while by herself._

 _While checking machinery in a particularly vacant part, she hears strange noises. Shouts, cries, the thudding of something heavy against something soft. She rushes over, confused and frightened, and sees four crewmen. Two are holding down a third, while the fourth holds a large metal paperweight in his hand. He is bashing in the victim's skull. She recognizes the victim as Ensign Sanders, a sweet boy who has a crush on her._

 _As she draws closer, trying to stay out of sight, she recognizes the three attackers, who are now punching and kicking the dying young man ruthlessly. The one with the weapon is Lieutenant Roger Garrison, a Security officer with a vicious reputation. The other two are Ensigns Hanson and Clark. Hanson is with Garrison in Security, while Clark, Hanson's best friend, is in Engineering._

"Wait." Interuppted Kirk with a start. Tara jumped and winced at the interruption. "Garrison, Hanson, and Clark? You saw them, but you didn't say anything?" He was annoyed now, annoyed that this boy's parents had been forced to go a month without knowing their son's killers.

"Shut up 'n _listen,_ Uncle Jim." Joanna practically snarled. "She's getting to that part next."

Tara hesitated for a few seconds, then continued.

 _Tara is going to run and find help, find Scotty, someone, when in her haste to leave, she trips and falls, knocking over a stack of spare parts with a clatter. The three freeze instantly, their eyes narrow and they crack their knuckles menacingly. She doesn't move, doesn't breath, and they go back to beating the young man who is almost certainly dead by now and slumping down the wall._

 _The face of the dead man is turned toward her hiding place, and the vacant eyes stir a sort of fury in Tara. She jumps to her feet and leaps out from her hiding place. "He's dead, you killed him, so why can't you just leave him be?" She spits, eyes blazing. "I'm going to turn you bastards in, and I'm going to get you all kicked out."_

 _They laugh, and take a few menacing steps toward her. Lieutenant Garrison clicks his fingers, and suddenly she is being held down by Hanson and Clark, her arms being held painfully behind her. "You should have run when you had the chance, Trenton." Garrison chuckles. "Now we're gonna kill you, too. Wow, I wonder what rumors will fly about. Pity you won't be able to hear them."_

 _He prepares to hit her forehead with the paperweight, when Hanson clears his throat. "Roger, wait. She's friends with Little Miss McCoy." He gulps, and loosens his grip on her arms for a moment. "That little bitch is the best hand-to-hand fighter on the ship. I heard she's better than Hendorff."_

 _Garrison freezes, thinking. "No one's better than Hendorff."_

 _"I heard he came as a challenge one day and she kicked his ass." Clark pipes in nervously. "I don't wanna face her, Roger."_

Jo broke in at this point. "That is absolutely true, by the way. He doesn't like to talk about it, though." Tara ignored her.

 _The lieutenant lowers the paperweight in defeat, and scowls. "So what are we supposed to do with her? We can't let her turn us in." Something occurs to him, and he smiles. "See, if her good friend is discovered dead here, Little Miss McCoy will destroy us. But if poor little Tara Trenton decides to tell someone about what we've done… Well, if poor Miss McCoy is found dead first, alongside her stupid Russian boyfriend, then there'll be no one left to protect you. Understand, Trenton?" He snarls._

 _Tara is about to pass out from the fear, but nods all the same. "I understand."_

 _"And if we see you starting to hint that you know what happened, we'll break something. Arm, leg, neck… Anything we feel like. Now go, before I change your mind and kill you anyway." And she is released, upon which Tara creeps into an obscure corner and sobs her eyes out. She just witnessed a murder. And if she says anything, her friends will die._

Jim frowned. "They threatened to kill Jo and Chekov? And then you, too? Damn. No wonder you didn't say anything."

Tara's face was pale. Jo squuezed her shoulder encouragingly. "You don't blame me?" The young engineer croaked. "You don't blame me even though Sanders' family could have known the killers a month ago?"

"Blame you? Of course not." Jim said, digging through his filing cabinets for the bottle of fine whiskey he'd hidden there at the beginning of the voyage for circumstances such as these. "You are the type of person who values their friends over themselves. There's no shame in that, I'm like that. So's Jo, and Chekov, and Sulu, and Bones, and Spock, though he won't admit it. You want a drink?" He added suddenly, holding up the bottle he had finally located.

Tara and Jo both nodded. Jim pulled out three glasses and poured a bit into each of them. "After we're done here, I suggest you visit Rhine." The two frowned at the mention of the barkeeper, and he elaborated. "You tell him some of the story and he'll give you more than the allowed two drinks. Even better, he'll make it your favorite one. Also, sometimes it's nice to talk to someone who wants nothing more than to listen."

Tara closed her eyes and nodded. She felt sick, convinced that she would wake up to find Jo and Pavel dead at her feet, and Garrison holding a knife to her throat. "You're probably right." She whispered hoarsely. "I should go see Rhine."

Jim nodded in approval. "Of course I'm right. But seriously, thanks for getting the courage. Now I can send in the report, and those three bastards can get kicked off my ship and locked up on Earth. In the mean time, they'll be in the brig. No chance for any more murders." He shook his head in disbelief. " _Murder._ Any idea what their motives were?"

"No, sir." She said quietly. "I only saw the result of the motives, whatever they were."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Jim said gently. "Now go see Rhine and let him make you feel better." The pair nodded, and left the office. As soon as they left, Jim buried his head in his hands and despaired over the unnecessary death and grief and pain those three men had caused.

Rhine was cleaning up the bar when Tara and Jo walked in. As soon as he saw the pair, saw how Jo was supporting her friend both physically and emotionally, he pulled out a pair of glasses and a pair of bottles. One of fine bourbon, just the kind that Joanna liked, and one of medium-grade whiskey, Tara's favorite kind that she used to steal from her mother when she was home alone.

"Ladies." He grunted. He turned to Joanna first. "You figure things out with that boy of yours?"

A tiny smile crossed the young woman's lips. "Yeah. We're together now, as of yesterday."

Rhine nodded in approval and turned next to Tara, who was slumped at the bar with fear and self-loathing written all over her face. "Tell me what's wrong, child."

She looked up slowly, winced, swallowed her drink in one go, and began telling the story of how she witnessed the Sanders Murder and allowed herself to be blackmailed. By the end, she was crying. "I tried to say something, Rhine, I really did! But everytime I tried, they would see me and interrupt, and they'd break something. First time, it was my arm. Second time, it was my leg. This time, it was my wrist, and they said it'd be my neck next. Rhine, when they find out that I've told, they'll kill me, and Jo and Pavel too!"

Rhine's face was deadly serious. He'd been here all through the last five year mission, and was going to be here through all of this one. He'd seen and heard a lot of different things, but a murder witness fearing for her life hadn't been one of them. He wasn't quite sure what to say. "Miss Trenton, you can't let yourself be trodden on and controlled. You have to stand tall, fight back." His voice was loud, and his accent was thick, but his words still were clear.

Tara didn't say anything at first. Then, she looked up at Rhine with suddenly dry eyes. "You're right." She said. "I've been allowing them to get to me, but I can't do that anymore. I've got to protect myself. Garrison and his buddies won't know what hit 'em!"

Jo was smirking at the return of her friend's usual over-confidence. It reminded her of the day they met, when she watched Tara Theresa Trenton beat up her ex-boyfriend. That Tara had faded over time, become milder and more fearful of the world. It was good for her to be back. "Well, I wouldn't seek them out, but being ready to fight back is a good plan." She advised.

"I'm not _that_ over-confident, Jo." Tara scoffed. "But I will admit, I wouldn't mind if they _did_ try something." Something gleamed in her eyes, and once again she was reminded of the vibrant young woman she had met five years ago, and how she had faded into a terrified shell, and how (Jo felt a stab of guilt) Jo hadn't even realized until it was too late.

Rhine looked satisfied that he had helped someone again. It was the real reason he stayed on a spaceship with a very, very high death rate, instead of going back to Earth to take care of his eldery mother and father. Up here, among the stars, Rhine could make a difference. He could help people, comfort them, give them advice, give them hope when they had convinced themselves there was none left in the world for them.

He wiped the already spotless counter one last time, and replaced the last few bottles of alcohol to their usual positions. "Well, if you two ladies are good, then could you leave? I'd like to get to bed and get a bit of sleep."

Jo and Tara laughed a little, and stood up in unison. "Thank you, Rhine." The older of the two said. While her eyes were bright with cheerfulness, you could still see the fading tear tracks on her face. "For everything."

And then the two were gone, going back to their own quarters, probably. Rhine smiled and walked out of the bar himself, turning off the lights before he closed the door. As he walked to his quarters, he didn't realize there was a shadowy figure hiding some ways behind him. At least, not until they knocked him out and dragged him away.

With a thud, something fell out of the attacker's pocket.

It was a large metal paperweight.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **This chapter was going to be shorter, the end part with Rhine squished into Fifteen instead, but I just loved the cliffhanger, soo... sorry!**

 **Anyway, Chapter Fourteen! Second chapter today! Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas or whatever holiday greeting strikes your fancy. Also Sulu and Jim are definitely Star Wars nerds... (Episode VII was AMAZING by the way)**

 **I've already started writing the next chapter so hopefully you won't like have to wait for eternity. SORRY AGAIN.**

 **Trellya**


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Where Rhine Went

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next morning, Jo arrived at the Med Bay humming cheerfully to herself. Tara was going to be alright, and she was with Pavel. Everything was perfect. The humming stopped abruptly when she noticed the empty bed. "Dad, where's Pav?" She called loudly, hoping that nothing bad had happened to him.

Her father poked his head out of his office. "He went back to his quarters, about hour after you left. He didn't come over or anything?"

"No." She said with a shake of her head. "He knew I was going to talk to Tara, and didn't want to interrupt. And if he did come over, I was out late talking to Rhine."

Doctor McCoy frowned a little. "Hmm. Well, he's coming in for a check before lunch— you can talk to him then, etc. etc. But nothing…" He paused, flushing a bright red color. " _Physical_ on the job."

Jo looked at him in disgust. "Physical? Really? I'm not gonna make out with him in front of you, Dad, since I know that's what you're hinting at. All I can say is if I decide to give my boyfriend a hello kiss, I better not hear a peep outta you."

Her father spluttered in indignance, and she smirked before walking over to Christine, who was laughing silently in the corner, holding a clipboard. "Alright. Now that that's dealt with, let's get to work."

At 10:30, Jo was giving some Ensign from Engineering a painkiller hypo for the migraine she was suffering from when Pavel walked through the door.

He was standing tall, and as soon as he saw her he beamed widely and walked over to her. You couldn't tell that a week ago he had been bleeding out on the floor in her arms. " **Jo. You look beautiful.** " He said in Russian, standing so close to her she could feel the slughtly elevated beat of his heart. " **But I am not suprised.** "

"And why is that, Mr. Chekov?" She asked playfully in English.

He leaned even closer until his lips were brushing her ear. When he spoke it was in a whisper of his native language that gave her chills. " **You are always beautiful.** "

Neither of them could take it anymore. They kissed softly, and only for a moment. It was, as Jo had promised her father it would be, a 'hello' kiss. They broke apart, and stared at each other lovingly. Christine cleared her throat pointedly.

"Sorry." Jo apologized to the awkward-looking Ensign. "You may go now. If the hypo doesn't kick in after an hour, come back and I'll give you another one." The young woman nodded and walked quickly out of the Med Bay.

"If you aren't going to stay professional while working, Joanna, then I'll need to make sure that some changes are made to both your schedule and his. This is your only warning." The nurse stared warningly at the younger woman. "You can't just kiss your boyfriend during your shift— _especially_ while tending a patient."

Jo felt her cheeks darken in humiliation. She'd heard other nurses get this speech, but never had she even considered that it would someday be directed at her. "I'm sorry, Chris, I forg—"

"Yes, yes, you 'forgot.' Everyone does. That's why nothing is happening for now. I'm not cruel." Chapel softened a bit. "Now let poor Pavel get to his appointment, and help Mary do inventory. We've been due for one for a while now."

Jo sighed heavily, and walked over to where Mary was standing, looking helpless and desperate for a companion. But before the two women could even get started, Jim burst into the sick bay, looking frantic.

"God dammit Jim, what _now_?" Her father groaned, practically running away from where he was checking on Pavel as soon as he saw the Captain. "If you've eaten something you're allergic to, I swear to God-"

"Rhine's missing." Jim said hoarsely. "I was going to talk to him and ask him how last night went, but there was no sign of him. Even worse…" He hesitated, and pulled something out of his pocket, careful to not touch the surface with his skin, so as not to destory any fingerprints. "I found this outside his quarters."

It was a large metal paperweight, golden in color and the perfect size to attack someone with. Jo stared at it in horror. "It looks exactly like what Tara described Leiutenant Garrison having. Do you think…?"

"Do I think that Garrison attacked and took Rhine to God-knows-where because Tara told on him? Yeah, JoJo, I do." Jim said seriously, eyes flashing with fear. "And I think he's gonna go after you next."

Her father spluttered in protest. "How– How could you think— I—" He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The redness in his face lowered considerably, and instead the anxiety that was creeping up on him was making appear ten years older. "Dammit. You have no idea where he's put Rhine? Or where Garrison is himself?"

"No." Jim said. "I've got Spock trying to locate either of them, but no luck so far. Shouldn't take too long, though— ship's not _that_ big. Anyway, I came to warn you to be careful, Jo. You too, Chekov." Several feet away, Pavel, who had been listening serrupticiously, jumped guiltily.

"I'm sorry, sor?" He said, trying to wipe the slightly awkward look off his face.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Jo told you, didn't she?"

He flushed in embarrassment. "Maybe—"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Anyway, there's a possibility that they'll go after you, too. I'm probably safe because he'll want to use his captives to both negociate his freedom and send a message to Tara. Either way, don't go out on your own, unless you fancy getting kidnapped and potentially killed."

Jo and Pavel both nodded in understanding. Jim motioned at Leonard. "C'mon, Bones. I wanna talk to you for a minute." McCoy scowled, but followed his friend into the empty hall anyway. He had a feeling he knew what this was all about. "Listen, Bones. I need to tell you to stop worrying about Joanna."

He blinked. He'd expected some plan to find Garrison, not a request to stop worrying about his only living family. "What? Why the f—"

"Language, Bonesey." Jim said tiredly. "And I know that it's hard to understand, but when you worry about Jo like this, you start endangering the rest of the crew. If you had the choice between saving the lives of two dozen red shirts or Joanna, which would you pick?"

Bones stopped, opened his mouth, and closed it again. He went very pale. "I'd save Jo."

"Exactly." Jim said seriously, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm not saying it's wrong to care for your daughter, Bones— far from it. But if your affections for her begin to interfere with you saving the lives of the rest of my crew, I will have her sent to a different ship. And although I don't want to do that— you know how many hearts that would break, especially Chekov— I will not hesitate to do what's best for the lives I am responsible for."

McCoy stared at his toes, guilt bubbling in his chest. He hadn't realized how severely his favoritism and parental instincts were affecting his decisions. "Okay, Jim. I hear ya." He paused, and looked the younger man directly in the eye. "Let me know if you find Rhine or Garrison."

"Will do, Bones. See ya later." And then the captain walked out of the medical bay as casually as a man on an evening stroll.

Leonard shook his head in disbelief. Then he turned back to Chekov, who was still sitting on his biobed with an awkward expression on his face. "May I return to vork now?" The young man asked, a hopeful expression on his face.

McCoy snorted. "Work? Don't make me laugh. You won't be allowed to work for another-" He paused, and gazed at the young man before him. He was healed, if not fully, then well enough to return to his job on the Bridge, which consisted of him sitting in a chair all day. Besides, he could tell that the navigator was going stir crazy from all of this bed rest. "You know what? You can return to work now, if you want. But no double shifts for a week, I want you to get your rest. And if you ever feel anything bad at all, come in here and let me check you out. Got it?" He finished in a slightly threatening voice.

Chekov broke into a huge grin. "Zhank you wery much, Doctor! Zhank you! I vill be careful, I promeese." And he sped from the room, careful not to run too fast, but running all the same. McCoy let him go. He felt a deep satisfaction at Chekov's happiness, especially since he knew how down the navigator had been for the majority of this mission.

"So, what was that?" Christine said in an amused voice right behind him.

Leonard smiled, and turned to face her. "He was fit for duty, I just wasn't letting him go yet. Mainly because of Jo, I think. I wanted to keep the man she loved safe… but he was still unhappy, even if they are together or whatever now." It felt strange trying to explain something he didn't quite understand himself, but Christine seemed to understand.

"Jim talked to you about Jo."

"Yes." He admitted. "I don't think I'm going to tell her that, though. She'd be furious with me for shirking my duties."

Christine laughed, a merry sound that made everyone turn to them in surprise. Christine Chapel rarely laughed during work hours. "You are a strange man, Leonard McCoy. A good one, but strange."

Leonard smiled at that.

Pavel Chekov had just completed his first shift on the Bridge in what felt like months. Could it really have only been days? Surely it had been years since he had been at his place, struggling for the millionth time to say the authorization code for the ship-wide announcements. He no longer felt the suffocating feeling of uselessness in his heart, a feeling had hadn't quite noticed after all the excitement with Jo. He was useful again, not some lump of flesh that consumed valuable resources.

He knew that Jo would be furious at him for feeling useless if he told her. She would give him a hug (maybe a kiss, too, now that things were different but so amazingly right) and tell him that even when he wasn't working he was important, that he meant something. Pavel knew all this, but knowing this and not experiencing it made things difficult. McCoy releasing him to work before this depression could fully sink its claws in him had raised his mood to insurmountable heights, and left him with a huge grin that no one could suppress.

At least, until the man appeared out of the shadows and lunged at him, a heavy piece of pipe in his hand. Pavel recognized him immediately as Ensign Hanson from Security. One of the cronies of Garrison. Fear enveloped him, but he did not allow it to cripple his reactions.

Pavel blocked the attempted attack and twisted the man's arm, forcing him to let go of the weapon. He threw it down the hallway and then punched Hanson in the nose. He could feel the bones crack under his fist.

Hanson howled, and kicked him soundly in the crotch. A cowardly move. Chekov gasped in pain, and fell to his knees. Hanson took the opportunity to aim a punch for his jaw. He tried to block it too late.

Chekov felt his jaw dislocate. Agony jolted across his face, and anger quickly followed. He got to his feet, jaw throbbing, and punched the man soundly across the face. He then grabbed his arms and twisted them in such a way behind his back that Hanson could not move at all. Then he flipped him over, slamming the heavier man to the ground in a surprising show of strength. All those sparring sessions with Sulu and Kirk had paid off.

The man moaned, and tried to stand up once more. Rolling his eyes, Pavel slammed the man's head into the metal side of the ship, knocking him unconscious instantly. With that, the young man got to his feet once more and went back to the bridge. Apparently, they hadn't made enough noise to alert anyone. His jaw was still extremely painful, and he suspected it looked quite grotesque, but he needed to inform the captain of the unconscious conspirator lying in the hallway.

As soon as everyone saw him, they gasped. The fight had left Pavel with a dislocated jaw and a nasty black eye. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, he knew that his English would be so distorted it would be nearly impossible to decipher. So he turned to Uhura instead, and spoke in Russian.

 **"Tell the captain that I was just attacked by Ensign Hanson from Security, who I believe was a helper in the murder of Ensign Sanders. He is unconscious in the hallway."** The words were extremely painful and distorted, and Chekov could tell that Uhura was having to think to understand everything he said.

Eventually, she spoke. "Ensign Hanson attacked him. He's knocked out in the hallway, apparently."

Kirk frowned. "Hanson? Helped-murder-Sanders Hanson?"

"Da." Said Pavel, wincing at the fresh wave of pain that came from his jaw.

Jim nodded. "Thank you. I'll get someone to collect him and take him to the brig. In the meantime, you should go get that jaw taken care of. It looks horrible, really."

Pavel simply nodded, in too much pain to say anything more. He exited the Bridge and headed back to med bay, the place he was hoping he wouldn't have to see again for a long while.

When he entered, the first thing he noticed was that Jo was gone. He wanted to ask where she was, but the pain in his jaw was worsening. As soon as Christine saw him, she rushed over, eyes wide with shock. "Jesus, Pavel, what happened? Why did some asshole beat you up?"

He glared at her, indicating his face, and she flushed. "Sorry. I got carried away. Come over here, and I'll take care of that." She pulled out a hypo, and brought it near to his face. "This is a local anaesthesia so you don't pass out when I'm putting it back." She pressed the hypo to his face, releasing the fluid into his body. She then began gently moving his jaw around, but nothing happened, until it snapped into place with a grotesque "pop!"

Chekov hollered in pain and clutched his face, but a moment later it felt much better. Christine straightened. "Now, I'll need to tie a bandage around your head, so you don't over extend it and pop it out of place again."

He shook his head, rubbing his jaw. "No, I need to vind Garrison, Clark, and Rhine." He paused. "Vhere ees Jo?"

She smirked knowingly. "She's responding to an injury in Engineering. And before you ask, no, she's not alone, Mary's with her, not to mention Scotty. That man would die before letting her get kidnapped."

Pavel relaxed, knowing she was safe unless two men could overpower a crowd of crazy Engineers. "Okay. Now, I must go to zhe breedge." He stood up. "I vould take zhe bandage but I need to talk. I vill be careful, end eef I knock eet out of place again I vill allow zhe bandage."

Christine hesitated, but eventually sighed in defeat. "Fine. But if you hurt yourself worse so we need to put you into surgery or something, so help me—"

She was cut off as an extremely excited Jim burst into the room, beaming widely. "BONES! BONES, WE FOUND THEM!"

McCoy came sprinting out of his office, covered in what looked suspiciously like spilled coffee all over his blue shirt. "You did? Damn, Jim, I guess you _can_ get the job done sometimes!"

Jim's eyes narrowed, and for a moment Pavel thought he would argue, but he ignored the not-so-subtle jab and continued. "So we checked everywhere with just visual cameras, right? You know, because we assumed they would be morons and hide in plain sight. When that didn't work, we searched everywhere for heat signatures. Spock's idea, of course. We found a large storage closet near the Security Wing that had three human sized heat signatures and no one in the room. So we looked closer, and it's actually a loop feed. They're more clever than I thought."

"Vell," Pavel said in his thick accent, "Ensign Clark ees een Engeeneering. He could make a loop feed eef he's not an eedeeot."

Bones nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you've found them. Who're you gonna send over there? Because it's sure as _Hell_ not gonna be me and you, Jim. I absolutely refuse. This is one time I deserve a break."

Jim's face fell, and Pavel fought off an amused smirk with difficulty. "Well, Bones, now that you've chickened out, I've got no—"

"I vill do eet."

Silence.

Jim blinked in shock. "What?"

Pavel was shocked he had spoken. But he needed to. He needed to prove that he wasn't their precious Chekov anymore, that he could take care of himself. What better way than to confront a murderer and kidnapper before he could hurt his girlfriend? "I vill get back Rhine."

Jim stared. "Uh, no offense, Chekov, but you're half as big as the smallest one of those guys! You'd be eaten alive. I'm not about to let you run in there. Besides, Garrison is a skilled Security officer, and—"

"Hanson vas larger zhan Garrison, even, but I took heem out easily. My eenjuries vere minor. I can do zhis. I've done nothing for days, I vant to do something. I don' t to be _useless_ anymore!" Chekov snarled angrily. A second too late he realized what he had said.

Jim's face was oddly closed as he looked at the young man before him, green eyes and curly golden hair and a golden yellow shirt that clung to his thin frame even though it had been years since the navigator had been "sewenteen, sor!" He still looked young, though he was in his late twenties. He'd been stabbed in the stomach only days ago, for Christ's sake, and that was a serious injury, even with their advanced technology. But there was a toughness, a hardness in his eyes, and Jim knew what he had to do.

"Alright. But I'm coming with you."

It was Chekov's turn to blink in surprise. "Vhat?"

Jim scowled impatiently. "Well, I can't let you go in there alone, and I really want to be the one to deal with this, so we both go in. Win-win." Also, he thought privately, he could make sure the kid didn't reopen his stab wound.

Honestly, Pavel was still surprised that he was being allowed to go at all. It warmed his heart that Jim was giving him this chance to cast away the protected teenager he had once been. "Vell, zhen, shouldn't ve go?"

A smile slowly stretched across Jim's face. "Yeah, we should."

Rhine was pissed. This actually wasn't the first time he had been kidnapped, back in Germany some drunk murderers had grabbed him for witnessing the crime, but he'd hoped to get away from all that nonsense by going into space. Turns out even Star Fleet can't keep out the murdering morons who decide capturing the bartender who just wants to do his job is a great idea.

When he'd woken up, his head had been aching. A moment later, he remembered the pain as he'd been knocked out by some blunt object. Probably the same paperweight used to murder the Ensign, he reasoned. He knew that he had a pretty nasty concussion from the impact, and knew that he was lucky not to have gone into a coma. He had seen enough action to know how finicky head injuries were.

After a few minutes during which his vision cleared significantly, it became clear that he was in some sort of storage closet, most likely in the Security sector, judging by the phasers and other weapons surrounding him. He also realized that his hands were tied to a supporting pole in the center of the room. He tried to wriggle his hands free, but the tightly tied roped paired with his large hands made it next thing Rhine noticed was that two men were sitting in front of him. One was Garrison, large and bulky and an unstable look in his eyes. The other was one of his cronies— Clark, probably, as he looked far more likely to be from Engineering rather than security as his hands were probably the strongest part of him.

"You're awake." Garrison said, a glint in his eye.

Rhine scowled. "No shit." The words were slightly slurred thanks to his concussion, making it even more difficult for the other two to understand him.

Clark leapt to his feet, trying to look intimidating despite the fact that Rhine was considerably larger than the young Ensign, not to mention far more experienced in several forms of combat. "You shut your mouth, you German mother-fucker, you and you piece of shit country are—"

"Marcus." Garrison snapped, watching as his prisoner bristled furiously at the jab at his country. "He's done nothing wrong yet. For now, he needs to remain unharmed, as bait. Soon, Kirk and some other idiotic bastard will arrive on a rescue mission, and we'll be able to complete our mission."

Rhine frowned. It seemed that this murderer perhaps had darker intentions than he had previously thought. "Mission?"

The two men jumped as they remembered that they had a prisoner with them. Clark cast a pleading gaze at Garrison, gesturing to the guns surrounding them. The older man shook his head, and stared at their formidable prisoner. "Well, we're going to kill you eventually. Might as well tell you a bit about what we're going to do."

Clark shook his head frantically. "Roger, no, you heard what he said, we can't tell anyone, that's why we—"

"SHUT UP." Garrison spat, slamming his fist into the metal supporting pole that Rhine was tied to. "I'll tell him whatever the fuck I want, and he can't do anything about it. And if you try and tell him that, I'll kill you, too. Got it, Marcus?" His eyes were cold pieces of steel, and Rhine wondered how he had managed to be in Star Fleet this long without anyone noticing that he was a psychopath willing to kill even his friends.

Clark retreated into the corner, a stricken look on his face.

Garrison turned back to Rhine, a sickly grin on his face. "You're probably wondering how a crazy like me managed this long in Star Fleet. Am I correct?"

Rhine simply glared, unwilling to elicit a response. The man's eyes flashed, and he punched the much older man so hard his head slammed into the metal pole, making his vision turn white for a second as agony pierced his brain. "I said, AM I CORRECT?!"

"Yes." Rhine growled, feeling his black eye begin to form, his head pounding with splitting pain. "You bastard."

Garrison seemed unaffected by this insult, then stomped down hard on his prisoner's foot. Rhine felt the bones in his foot shatter. He couldn't help the scream that left his lips. Suddenly, there was a cold hand covering his mouth. "Silence, you damn moron. The whole ship will hear, and we only want Kirk." The hand was removed from his mouth, and he couldn't find the strength to speak. It would probably be in German anyway.

"Now," said Garrison with a sick smirk as he straightened up again. "are you going to stay quiet before I break something else?"

Rhine remained silent, and moved his head down once. His head throbbed, his foot screamed in agony.

Garrison chuckled in triumph. "Now, _Rhine_ , you've probably gathered by now that, 1. I am insane, 2. that I don't really work for Star Fleet, and 3. that I am probably hoping to murder Jim Kirk. You would be correct. I work for someone else. I'm not telling you who on the off chance you somehow survive. I was recruited, along with Hanson, Clark, and several others on several other ships, to infiltrate Star Fleet and sabatage their work. Our most recent mission was to kill the famous Captain James Thaddeus Kirk." He paused, and smirked again. "Ensign Sanders, the unlucky bastard, heard us planning the whole ordeal. We had to kill him. Then Trenton saw us. She didn't know why we killed him, however, and that paired with the fact that that bitch Little Miss McCoy is her friend stopped us from killing her, too, right then and there. After that, we had to lay low, pretend we were just as clueless and make sure goddamned Trenton said nothing."

"Sanders was merely an inconvenience." Rhine growled in disbelief. To his surprise, the words were in English.

Garrison's face darkened. He grabbed something from the wall— a cattle prod-like device that caused excruciating pain and was never used by the Enterprise for that exact reason. He jabbed Rhine in the chest after turning in on, causing another bolt of agony to jolt through him. "STAY. FUCKING. QUIET!" He screamed, spit flying into Rhine's face.

Rhine felt furious. He wasn't going to sit here without fighting as they waited to kill his Captain, who was a good friend and a common visitor to the bar. "You're a coward. A real man would go out and find Kirk, not hide away in a closet."

He paid dearly for those words. Garrison jabbed him with the prod, and stuck it there, not caring anymore about the horrific screams ripping their way from Rhine's throat. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the man's agony, and removed the weapon for a moment before replacing it in the same spot, laughing as the screams continued.

When the torture finally ended, Rhine was down to the last scraps of his strength. No one had come, despite the fact that someone had to be around close enough to hear him. Hopelessness swamped Rhine, and his head slumped down into unconsciousness.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **So... yeah, sorry really bad, really dark place to end this. On the bright side, it hasn't been a month since my last upload. *gasp* Even stranger, it's a really long upload. *gasp***

 **Also, I know that Chekov was stabbed like a few days ago, but the technology would at least cut recovery time in half, if not quarter it. I mean, they can heal a broken bone practically with a snap of their fingers.**

 **Also, don't worry, I like Rhine too much to kill him!**

 **And what was going to be a small adventure like the others somehow turned into a major plot arch that will eventually lead to the end of the story. Huh. Amazing where my mind goes.**

 **Apologies for any mistakes (I'm my own beta), all of the medical innacuracies/impossibilities, and the strong language in this chapter. Hopefully not too long till the next update.**

 **HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA yeah right.**

 **Thank you all,**

 **Trellya.**


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Pav Kicks Ass

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Pavel Chekov and Jim Kirk were on their way to the storage closet in Engineering where Rhine, Garrison, and presumably Clark were. They'd asked all Security personell to leave the area, so just in case things got nasty there were minimal casualties.

Because of this, they were the only ones on the Enterprise to hear the screaming.

It was clearly Rhine, as the screaming was occasionally punctuated by violent swearing in German. It stopped for a moment, then continued as the horrible torture presumably continued. Jim and Chekov looked at each other, the blood draining from their faces, and then ran as fast as they could in the direction of the barman's cries.

Before they reached the door at the end of the maze of hallways that was the Enterprise, the screams stopped. They didn't begin again. Fear clutched at Jim's chest, and the guilt that Rhine might be dying thanks to his failure as a Captain churned in his heart. He felt like he should have stopped the murder of Ensign Sanders before it had happened, that he should have realized the situation with Tara Trenton long before she had finally asked for help, that he should have predicted that Rhine would be targeted for knowing their identities.

He felt old, like he'd gone soft, somehow, in the two years he'd spent on Earth between missions. He needed to get back to the proper mindset, stop any more of his crew from getting injured or killed. Flashes of the disastrous away missions of this mission came back to him, and more guilt churned in his chest.

They had reached the door, and Chekov was looking at him expectantly. "Keptin, ve must hurry." He urged, a glint of panic in his eyes. Collecting himself and bottling up his guilt for later, he nodded opened the door.

Garrison was standing in the room, a cattle prod-like device in his right hand, crackling with energy. Jim recognized it as something usually used on missions with dangerous animals on them that might need to be stunned. It caused excruciating pain in humans. Behind him, tied to a metal supporting pole, lay Rhine, his considerable size seeming strangely diminished with his head slumped and his eyes closed. For a moment, Kirk thought he really was dead, but then he noticed the slight rise and fall of the large man's chest. Relief flooded through him. He was alive.

"Ah." Said Garrison, strightening and switching the cattle prod to his other hand before turning around. "Hello, Captain Kirk. Glad you could find me."

Suddenly, another man stepped out of the shadows— Ensign Clark, from Engineering. He was a large man, but clearly not as strong as Garrison or Hanson or even Clark. He seemed strangely frightened of the man in front of him. At the same time, a deeply hidden fury smoldered in his eyes. What had happened to make him so angry?

"Now, Kirk, you're probably wondering why I've taken Rhine, of all people. After all, his big calling card is that he never tells the secrets of others, and what he knew was already known by you at the time. It makes no sense, agreed?" Garrison said casually, turning off the cattle prod and browsing the various racks of weapons around him. He selected a single small knife, and turned back to the Captain. After waiting for an answer that did not come, he shrugged and drew nearer. "The answer, of course, is simple."

Jim stared into the cold eyes of Roger Garrison, a man whose loyalty he had never once doubted, and felt a stab of fear in his stomach. The younger man leaned forward until his face was inches from Jim's. " _I lured you here to kill you, James Kirk._ " He raised the hand holding the knife high, and Kirk fumbled for his phaser, but his hands were clumsy with panic—

With a flash of light, a phaser blast hit Garrison's hand, forcing him to drop the knife. As it fell, it hit him on the face, leaving a thin red scratch down his face, making him look even more insane and terrifying.

Jim turned in shock, and saw Pavel Chekov, phaser in hand, a fierce look in his eyes. Honestly, he'd almost forgotten Chekov had come with him, and now the young man had saved his life. Garrison had apparently not noticed Chekov too. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw clenched.

"Pavel Andreivich Chekov. I see that you accompanied Kirk here. I was hoping that Hanson would be compentent enough to capture you, so I could get that Little Bitch McCoy over here and get rid of _her_ , too, but I suppose I…" He paused. " _Underestimated_ you."

Chekov was standing unnaturally stiff after the comment about Joanna, but when he spoke, his voice was calm and collected, yet full of venom. "Yes. I suppose you deed, deedn't you?"

Garrison reached down to pick up the knife, jaw clenching in fury, but Chekov shot the ground only inches away from his hand, making it jump back instinctively. Slowly, the large man's back straightened, hatred glimmering in his eyes, but instead of running at the Navigator, he spoke a single word. "Clark."

Another phaser blast sounded, this one hitting Chekov in the arm. Although it was a stunning blast, it was a stun on its highest setting, which left the man's shooting arm dangling uselessly. Jim ran forward as soon as he heard his friend's pained cry.

Garrison responded and blocked his punch, snatching the knife off the ground and slashing it viciously at the Captain's throat. Jim managed to stop it, but gained a slice on his arm in the process. Hissing in pain, he shoved his attacker as far away as he could, using the precious moments to run to the side of the room and grab himself a knife. Before he could get safely away from the racks, however, Garrison slammed him into it, causing their sharp edges to slice into his back. Jim howled.

Pavel, meanwhile, was busy fighting Clark. He was being forced to shoot with his left hand, making his shots significantly inacurate. Clark, meanwhile, was shooting over and over, trying to hit his other arm and leave him helpless for the kill shot. Jim was involved in a high risks knife fight, while Chekov was trying to avoid getting killed or letting Rhine get hit.

His useless arm was like lead, and throbbed with pain from the shot. Sweat trickling down his face, he shot again at Clark. The shot hit him directly between the eyes, knocking him out instantly. He'd have a hell of a headache when he awoke.

Chekov grabbed a knife from the wall and jogged to where Kirk and Garrison were battling fiercely. Garrison continually went for Jim's throat, or other equally vital areas, where as Jim's strategy was to wear the other man down over time, waiting until the blood loss got to him. It appeared to be working, but not well enough. Jim was also bleeding quite a bit, and both men appeared to be tiring at the same rate.

Pavel waited for the right moment, listening to the words Garrison was screaming at the Captain. "You've had it coming, really. And Little Miss McCoy too. Thinking she's the best, getting special treatment thanks to her dad… Well, I'm going to kill her. I'll kill them both, the little—"

Anger surged through Pavel as Garrison spoke. He wasn't going to let Garrison kill Jim, and he _certainly_ wasn't going to let him attack Joanna, too. Running forward, Pavel stabbed his knife in the man's back, inbetween two ribs and twisting, before removing the knife so it wouldn't block the bloodflow. His words stopped abruptly, ending in a little wheeze of air before slowly slumping to the ground, twitching as his blood poured out.

Jim stared in shock at the young man before him, a large bloody knife in his left hand, his right arm dangling uselessly at his side. "What—"

Pavel said nothing, and pulled his communicator out of its holder. "Doctor McCoy, please bring dovn four medeecal beds for us. Ve are fine right now, but eet vill not be so preetty soon."

" _What the hell happened down there_?" McCoy hissed. "Why do _all four_ of you need a bio bed?"

Chekov sighed. "I do not need von. But ze ozhers do. I em not uninjured, but I cen valk fine."

Silence. Then he spoke. "Damn it. We're coming."

Jim stared at him, his eyes slightly glazed from exhaustion and bloodloss. His golden shirt was covered in scratches and blood. Chekov supported him with his good arm, dropping the knife on the ground. He didn't need it anymore.

Leonard McCoy was trying really hard not to call Joanna down. She was off for the rest of the evening, and he didn't want to worry her until he knew it was necessary. Jim's warning of not letting his daughter become more important than his patients echoed in his head. He had Christine, and two other nurses, Suzy and Emily, along with himself. That should be enough to get four injured persons to the Med Bay without too much trouble.

That thought didn't prepare him for the sight of the five men, however. Chekov was heavily supporting Jim, who was covered in blood and had clearly just gotten through a wild knife fight. In the corner was Ensign Clark, unconsious, probably from phaser fire. In the center of the room was an unconscious Rhine, who had clearly been tortured, and close by was Garrison, face first on the floor, a gaping wound in his back and his red shirt soaked a darker color with blood. Chekov, on second glance, appeared to have a lame arm, judging from how it hung limply from body.

"Jesus Christ." He whispered, then began ordering his nurses around, getting everyone onto bio beds and starting to send everyone back to the Medical Bay.

As he watched the nurses scurry away with the biobeds, he turned to Chekov. "What happened?"

"Ve heard Rhine's screaming." He said heavily, clearly in pain and exhausted. "Zhen Garrison tried to keell zhe Keptin. I shot hees hend, and zhen Clark shot my arm. Eet vill not move. Garrison end Jeem vere fighting, end efter I shot Clark I helped heem out. I stabbed heem een zhe back. Zhe Keptin ees greiwously eenjured, Docter McCoy." He finished, eyes wide. Leonard could see the pain in his eyes. His arm might not be moving, but it certainly still hurt. That was a good sign, as that meant the nerve damage was likely minimal.

"Jim'll be fine." Leonard finally said. "He's had far worse." Of course, Chekov knew this, he'd seen his Captain's body after the incident all those years ago with Khan, but that didn't stop his worry. "I'm not sure about Garrison. Clark'll live, I doubt your phaser was set as high as his was, and Rhine'll survive too— he's a tough guy, let me tell you. But that knife wound is pretty bad."

McCoy watched the guilt crash down on his face. "I hate eet vhen I keel someone. End vhen zhey vere a crew member…" Self-hatred appeared on his young face, and Leonard felt his own fall. He hadn't meant to make him feel so awful. But he knew that their relationship had always been strained at best, even with Jo to help their relationship. He would need to ask Jo to help get his spirits up. After his arm was fixed, of course.

By now, they had reached the Medical Bay. Garrison was being prepped for surgery to repair the damage done by the knife, as was Jim. Most of the knife wounds were superficial, but a few were deeper and needed to be repaired.

One of the nurses scuttled over and whisked Pavel away to repair the nerves in his shoulder. Years ago this would have been a long and difficult process, but now it only took a couple hours for the initial repairs, and then a few sessions of physical therapy, to resolve. The only problem was that he had to sit in the exact same position for two hours in the regenerator, and after the first half hour he began to long to stand up.

Just as he was contemplating mutiny, he saw the door slide open, and in came Joanna. His face brightened. She appeared to be stopping in simply to check how things had gone. When she noticed the unconscious Rhine and Clark, as well as the missing Jim and Garrison, she frowned. When she noticed Pavel sitting in the Nerval Regenerator, she frowned even more.

To his disapointment, she went to Christine first. "Where's Dad and Jim? And Garrison? And why the hell is Pavel sitting in the Nerval Regenerator?"

Christine looked up, noticed Jo standing there with her arms crossed, and sighed. "Your father refused to go with Jim to get Rhine back, so Pavel volunteered. They found Rhine, fought Garrison and Clark, and took them both out. Everyone was injured somewhat. If you want more details, go talk to your boyfriend. I'm busy." She said in an apologetic voice.

Jo shrugged, and walked over to where the man she loved was sitting. "Explain everything. Now."

He thought, and decided to speak in Russian. That way, they couldn't be disturbed, and he could speak faster. " **I volunteered to go. I wanted to go alone, but the Captain wouldn't let me, so we went together. We found Rhine only because of his screaming. Garrison tried to kill Kirk, so I shot his hand, but then he had Clark shoot me in the arm. I couldn't move it at all. That's why I'm in here. The Captain and Garrison fought while Clark and I dueled. I shot Clark in the head, which knocked him out. Then I went to help the Captain… and I stabbed Garrison in the back.** "

She blinked. "Did I hear you right? Did you just say that you _stabbed Roger Garrison_ in the back?!"

He hesitated. "Yes."

Jo whistled. "Damn. I'm impressed. You took out _both_ the bad guys."

Chekov felt his chest swell a bit with pride. "Vell, actually, I took out zhe ozher guy too. Hanson. He deeslocated my jaw, but I deed eet."

She frowned a little. "He dislocated your jaw? And you still went with Jim? You could have hurt yourself. Not to mention the fact that you were just released back to limited duty today!" Jo sounded more riled up now, angry that he had risked himself.

This didn't sit well with Pavel, considering how many times she'd risked herself for _him_ , or nearly gotten killed and then skimped her treatment."Don't geeve me zhat look. You are _ten times_ vorse!"

Jo's anger melted slightly. "I am _not_ ten times worse!"

He smirked. "Tell zhat to your fazher."

"Pav!"

They were interrupted by the snorts of laughter coming from Christine in the corner. They both sent her their most potent glare, and then turned back to each other, Pavel's arm still in the regenerator, Jo still sitting next to him with an expression that was part amused, part angry. They sat in silence for a while, taking comfort in each other's presence and trying to think of the right thing to say. Most of the time, their interractions were effortless. But in situations like this, sometimes time to think was the better option.

Finally, it was Joanna who spoke. "You do realize that I'm not really mad at you, right?"

"Of course." He said softly.

She was wringing her hands, biting her lip. "I just get worried, and when you get really hurt I just— I feel like a part of me is dying, you know? Like my right arm had cancer or something. I mean, it sounds stupid, but—"

"No, eet's not stupeed." He said gently. "Ewery time _you_ geet hurt I feel like my heart ees breaking apart. I hate it vhen you're unhappy or een danger. I can't live vithout you, Joanna McCoy, because **I love you**." He spoke those words in Russian, like he had done before, and he realized it was something special between them, those three little words in a language most of those around them couldn't speak.

She smiled, and leaned in close. " **I love you, too.** " A millimeter before their lips touched, she pulled back. Pavel hissed in annoyance, and she smirked. "I can't kiss you until after your arm is fixed. Come and find me later, and we can watch a movie?"

He grinned. "Vhat do you vant to vatch?"

"Lord of the Rings?" She suggested. "The really old originals?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe one of zhem. Zhey are all many hours long!"

" _Two Towers_ , then." Jo said firmly. "I know it's your favorite."

Chekov's grin widened greatly. "Da. Zhough I vill newer understand vhy you love _Return of zhe Keeng_ so much."

Jo gasped in betrayal, and slapped his arm before standing up. "Because of the ghosts Aragorn calls, that's why! And besides, tell me why _Two Towers_ is your favorite again?" She said, her eyes narrowed.

He spluttered. "Zhat's— I— You know zhe answer to zhat already!"

"Say it."

He blushed, and muttered in Russian. She glared at him, and he scowled. "Fine! Because Eovyn ees hot! End she ees ewen more so vhen she uses her svord."

Jo crowed with victory and turned to the other nurses, who were giggling at their Navigator's humiliation. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Pavel Chekov." She said sarcastically. Then she turned to Pav with a smirk. As she looked at him, it softened. "See you later, Pav. **Love you.** "

She turned without waiting for his reply, and she was almost at the door when he panicked and shouted out, in English. "I love you too."

'Awwwws' were heard from Christine and the others. Jo grinned, and left the room, her hair swishing behind her.

For a minute or so, Pavel looked at the door with a smile on his face. Then the guilt caught up with him, crashing down like a tidal wave, and it slid off his face almost instantly. None of the nurses noticed this change, however, and so he sat still for a whole hour, staring sadly into the distance, going over his every failure, and every person he'd killed or injured in his long term as a crew member of the Enterprise.

After the hour was up, a nurse scurried over, double checked that everything was okay, and sent him off to Jo's, winking and giggling about him having 'a good time.' She didn't notice the truly depressed look on his face as he stood up, and she didn't notice how he headed in the opposite direction of Jo's quarters.

After an hour and a half, Jo knew something was wrong. He wouldn't abandon a movie with her like this unless something was truly eating him up. She thought back to their conversation, but he hadn't seemed depressed or upset… Then again, she hadn't given him the chance to tell her, really. Jo felt a stab of guilt. She always tried to help him when he was down, and his old childhood depression returned, leaving him miserable and in tears. But this time, she hadn't noticed. And who knew what he would do.

He wouldn't kill himself, or attempt to do so. She knew that. No, to Pavel, the greatest torture of all, torture to himself, was simply surviving. However, that wouldn't stop him from getting drunk, or smashing his mirror and cutting his hand, like he'd done the day he'd found out his father was dying.

Both Jocelyn and Pavel's father, Andrei, were dead now. When Jo had recieved the strained message from Clay a few weeks ago, she'd replied politely, and then locked it away in the corner of her mind, along with the beatings and all of the other awful things she'd endured in her relatively short life. She hadn't grieved, since there was nothing for her to grieve for, but Pav's father had redeemed himself.

Besides, the man she loved was far more sensitive and easily wounded emotionally than Joanna herself. She'd always had to help him in his guilt. Whether it was the old nightmare about losing Spock's mother, or feeling so guilty that Kirk had died that he hid his wounded shoulder until Jo made him tell someone, or the crushing hatred after he killed someone, she had always helped stop the issue before it consumed him, for she knew deep down that severe depression would probably lead to Pavel's death.

So, she'd made it her job to ensure that would never happen. And now she had completely missed all the warning signs, and she was going to be forced to pick up the shattered pieces and put them together again before it was too late.

Jo knocked on Pavel's door. If necessary, she knew the medical bypass code to get into his quarters, but that was only if he didn't reply at all. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. "Pav? You okay? You never came to movie night, but we can still watch some if we hurry." She paused, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Nothing. Worried, she continued. "Pav? I love you, you know that, right? And you know that nothing you could do will change that?"

Still nothing. Jo prepared to put in the override code, but then the door opened. There stood Pavel, eyes red from tears, and obvious bruises on his knuckles from where he'd been punching walls. "Jo." He said softly, and hugged her fiercely.

She stood there, surprised, before hugging him back, laying her head on his shoulder in a simple act of comfort and love. "Even if Garrison does die, you're not the same as him." She said softly. He opened his mouth to reply, but she talked over him. "No, Pav, let me speak. Roger Garrison murdered an innocent person in cold blood, and injured several more with the intent to murder them, as well. You attacked him with the intent to help your Captain in a fight, to end it before he got himself killed. You are not a murderer."

He stayed quiet for a while, and they simply stood in the empty hallway, holding each other as if there was nothing else clear in the world, and indeed, in that moment their love (as horribly cheesy as it sounds) stopped the horrors around them from crashing around and swallowing them whole.

"Thank you, Jo." He said finally. "Cen we vatch _Lord of zhe Reengs_ now?"

"Yeah." She said with a smile.

They both knew that he would wake up later that night with a nightmare, crying for mercy as Garrison's vengeful ghost tried to get revenge, and that it would take a few days before the experience could truly be allowed to fade away into memory, but at least they were together. At least they had each other.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **Well, that was a shockingly short time inbetween uploads! I suppose I couldn't keep the matter of Rhine unresolved for long.**

 **It was nice to see Pav kick some ass, huh?**

 **Thus the little.**

 **Anyway, next chapter will take a bit longer, as I don't really know where I'm going with it, unlike this one that continued directly from the last. It'll probably skip ahead a couple weeks, to the more interesting crap.**

 **Let me know if you want me to write a scene where Jo and Pav prank the betters (Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, Jim) as revenge for betting on them! I think it would be fun, but it would probably extend the length of the time between updates and therefore I don't want to put it in unless absolutely necessary.**

 **Anyway, please review! I LOVE HEARING FROM YOU GUYS!**

 **Love,**

 **Trellya.**


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Pranks and Bombs

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It had been three weeks since the kidnapping incident with Rhine. Kirk was fully recovered, and cheerfully ordering his yeoman to bring him an apple from Mess. Hanson and Clark were both beamed off board at the earliest opportunity. Rhine, too, had recovered, and seemed not not be any worse for wear. He claimed that he had experienced this sort of thing before.

Roger Garrison had died in surgery, and with him, a great wealth of information. Hanson and Clark had been sent back to Earth for interrogation, and Rhine had told them all that Garrison had told him before the torture, but they had still lost an important source.

All they knew for sure was that someone wanted James Kirk dead, and had gone through great lengths to accomplish this. They also knew that this person probably had many more allies.

At the moment, however, the Enterprise was enjoying a period of peace and quiet. They had not been under attack or gone on an away mission since the resolution of the Garrison Incident, as some were beginning to call it. The crew was spending their days in the recreation areas, whether playing chess, basketball, tennis, or other activities, there was plenty to do.

That, of course, didn't stop some from being very, very bored.

Jim was always bored in periods of peace, much to McCoy's chagrin, as he knew this meant a large amount of inevitable mischief on the Captain's part, usually in the form of pranks. However, curiously, in this three week period, the Captain had not performed a single prank. In fact, he seemed nervous, as though he were expecting to be on the receiving end of one. It was only later that people would realize just how right he was in being so wary.

Of course, the two executing the pranks were Pavel and Joanna.

Revenge came not in one grand event, but in a series of small pranks that left the victims constantly searching for the next one by the end of the week. First, Jim's blonde hair was dyed a bright, eye-watering shade of neon pink.

When he came onto the bridge that day, he was unfortunate enough to find McCoy there as well. Leonard had been commanded to take a day off, and the doctor had figured that the bridge would be the next most interesting place after the medical bay. It turns out that he was right.

When Jim entered the bridge, hair pink and his cheeks blooming with humiliation, the first thing Leonard did was burst out into hysterical laughter. "Jesus Christ, Jim, who did that to ya?"

"Really, Bones?" The captain pouted. "I walk in with fucking _pink hair_ and your reaction is to _laugh?_ "

Bones smirked. "Well, it's funny, Jimmy."

'Jimmy's' face crinkled a bit. "Don't call me that. Only my mom can call me that, and you know it. Also," he said, eyes narrowing, "it's not actually that funny. Did _you_ do it?"

Leonard looked insulted. "Me? Since when have I ever pranked you?"

Jim simply raised an eyebrow.

"That doesn't count!" Bones spluttered. "That's a completely different time with a different set of circumstances that we are _not_ going to talk about!"

Jim sighed and ran his hands through his pink hair. "Anyway, it won't come out in the shower, apparently… I tried twice already. And I can't think of any other option than to let it fade, so I guess I'll be pink for a while." He sounded resigned.

"Let me remind you, Captain, that there is a video meeting with the Admirals next week as well." Spock said from his console. Jim spun around and examined the face of his first officer closely. To his horror, he could see the slight lines around his eyes that meant he was amused. Jesus Christ, even Spock thought it was funny?!

Then the weight of what Spock had said crashed down on him. "Fuck. I'm screwed. I am 100% going to die. I can't let Archer see me with _PINK FUCKING HAIR!"_

"Language, Uncle Jim." Came the voice of a young woman. It was Joanna, of course. "Are you liking my work?" She added innocently.

Jim's face turned a shade of pink that strongly resembled that of his hair. "It was you? You went into my quarters and—?"

"Yes. I must say, your drooling is most disgusting." She said in an elegant tone, calmly examining her nails and picking bits of something pink off them. Jim winced as half-stifled chuckles filled the room.

Suddenly, another voice sounded. "Eet vas most satisfying, Keptin, getting our rewenge." Of course, Jim thought in a moment of clarity. Revenge. For the bet that he and Sulu had gotten rich off of. They'd warned him earlier, but he'd only partially paid attention.

"I wouldn't suggest trying to get us back." Jo added with a smirk. "We have something planned just in case, involving being locked in a room for hours and It's a Small World…"

Everyone shuddered.

"Well!" Jo said with a clap of her hands. "I ought to be going. Sulu and Scotty are on the list, too. Oh, and Nyota's off the hook."

Uhura smirked as Sulu groaned in frustration. "Why? She was the one to suggest the thing in the first place!"

"Because ve are terrified of her." Chekov said. "End ve do not vant to die." Everyone seemed to agree with this statement. Uhura had a reputation for viciously responding to pranks.

With that, Jo left, leaving a terrified Sulu and a furious Jim.

The next 'victim' was Scotty. His was simple, but slowly drove him mad. Simply put, every time he attempted to replicate a glass of scotch, he got only bourbon or vodka. He tried to fix it, of course, but that somehow resulted in it only giving the two alternate alcoholic beverages no matter what he typed in. Fries? Bourbon. Soup? Vodka. No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't work.

So, he tried to get a glass of Scotch from Rhine, as he knew for a fact the German man kept a bottle just for the head of Engineering. But when he strolled into the small bar, Rhine shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Montgomery, but I can't." Rhine was the only person on board that called him by his first name. The only other who came close was Jo, and even she shortened it to Monty. It was oddly refreshing for Scotty to hear his name come from the mouth of someone who wasn't his parents or sister. All the same, Scotty was still pissed thanks to this announcement.

"Why te bloody hell not? Ah'm dyin' fer a drink, Rhine, it's been a bloody week!" His voice was pleading, eyes wide. Normally he'd get a drink from the illegal still hidden deep in the bowels of Engineering, but it had mysteriously gone missing around the same time as the whole boubon-vodka instead of scotch thing.

Rhine sighed, and set his rag down on the counter. "I would give you the whole bottle, Montgomery, if I still had it. But it was taken from me, about a week ago. Every bit of scotch I had, gone. Somebody really has it in for your drinking preferences, my friend."

Scotty groaned, and plopped down on one of the bar stools. "Damn."

"If you want, I have a video message from the thieves." Rhine said suddenly, a tiny glint of amusement in his eyes. Scotty looked up eagery, and nodded, throat tight at the thought of potential revenge. "Of course, I feel like you should have already figured it out, what with Captain Kirk and his hair."

Scotty's eyes widened in realization, and he buried his head in his hands. "Christ Almighty, Ah'm an idiot fer not figurin' it out sooner. Bourbon and vodka… Damn kids."

Rhine chuckled slowly, and played the video on his PADD.

With a click, Jo and Chekov appeared. They seemed smug, and were having difficulty not giggling. "Hello, Monty." Jo said with a smirk. "If you are seeing this, it means you finally caved and have tried to get some scotch from Rhine."

"End you haf failed." Chekov added helpfully.

"Anyway," Jo said cheerfully, "We'll give your scotch back after all the pink in Jim's hair is gone. By Pav's calculations, that should take…"

"About zhirteen end von half days from zhis recording, zhe day ve executed zhe prank." Chekov said, a wicked grin on his face. "Until zhen…"

"You'll be stuck with _our_ favorite drinks."

With matching giggles of glee, the video clicked off. Scotty calculated quickly in his head. It had been seven and a half days since his problems had started, which meant he still had six days to go. Almost another whole week.

"Ah'm gettin' so drunk when this is over." He scowled.

Of course, at that point there was only Sulu left. The poor man was terrified, worried that everything he did would result in a prank. The two had something truly humiliating planned for him— he was certain for it. It turned out he was exactly right.

On the day in question, which just so happened to be the same day Scotty finally saw his video, Sulu went to get his uniform— and found nothing but golden-colored Starfleet dresses. They had given him all women's uniforms. Naturally, he tried replicating different ones, but all that came out were more dresses, so he put one on, bracing himself for Jim and Chekov's hysterical laughter.

Sure enough, when he walked onto the bridge the first thing he heard was the laughter of Pavel Chekov, who had clearly been eagerly awaiting his appearance. Everyone spun around to see the commotion, and then everyone was laughing at poor Sulu. Well, except for Spock, of course.

"I like the change of styles, Mr. Sulu." Jim said seriously, fighting to keep a straight face. "Tell me, will it be permanent?"

Hikaru scowled, and cast a glare in Pavel's direction. "I don't know, ask _him._ "

Chekov smirked. "In six days, all your uniforms will be normal again, the pink will be gone from Jim's hair, and Scotty will get his scotch back. Until then, have fun!"

Sulu glared harder. "SIX DAYS?!"

And yet, as with all good things, the period of peace had to end.

Joanna and Chekov were having a date. They had been dating for just over a month now, and they were celebrating by cooking dinner together and watching old holo movies. It was relaxing, nothing too fancy, just a night they got to spend together. As they were in space, they had yet to go on a more 'official' date, but neither of them cared. They already knew everything about each other, they didn't need to go on the typical 'first date.'

Just as Jo's head was lolling onto Pav's shoulder, there was an explosion. Instantly, they were alert and on their feet, eyes wide at the realization that their month of happiness and relaxation was finally over. "What the hell was that?" Jo asked, fear in her eyes.

"I do not know, but eet came from ze breedge, I zhink." Pavel said, heading for the door of Jo's quarters. "Ve should investigate."

They ran through the halls, shoving through crowds of semi-panicked crewmen unsure of what to do. Normally orders would be echoing through the halls, whether in the form of sirens or announcements. This time, there was silence. As they drew near the bridge, thick billows of smoke began to fill the air, stinging the lungs of everyone in the area. When they saw the flames in the bridge itself, they sprinted faster, eyes smarting from the pungeant smoke.

The door to the bridge had been blown to smithereens. Fire was everywhere, and most of the bridge crew was laying around the room, unconscious. Those that weren't were injured and trying to drag themselves and their friends to the empty shell where the door had been.

"Dad, get your ass down hear, and all the nurses you can find! The bridge has been blown to smithereens, everyone's been hurt." Jo barked into her communicator before jumping into the fray, using her uninjured body to help drag everyone out.

Pavel was dealing with the captain. He appeared to have been in the closest proximity to the bomb when it went off, so his injuries were greatest. "Jo, help me. He ees heawy." He groaned, trying to support the man by himself. She rushed over, and they successfully got Jim into fresh air.

Jo's instincts were telling her to make sure he was alright, but as she looked up, she saw that her father was here, and so leapt back into the smoke to save the rest of the bridge crew. A second later, Pavel followed, holding his golden shirt over his mouth to try and inhale less smoke.

After the last two people were helped out of the burning bridge, the two of them collapsed on the ground, breathing ragged and painful from smoke, eyes watering and exhausted. A nurse stumbled over and gave them a hypo to counteract the effects of the smoke, then asked politely if Jo would help them, as they had a dozen unconscious officers, including the captain and the first officer.

"How bad is Jim?" Jo asked as she approached her father, staring at the captain's limp form with worry. His shirt was practically gone, and his arms were severely burned. "It looked like he was closest to the explosion, almost like the bomb was meant specifically for him."

McCoy looked up and sighed. "He's got some bad burns, but he'll be okay after a couple days. A few sessions in the regenerator and he'll be good as new— and as annoying as ever." Jo felt the tension in her chest release a bit. If her father wasn't worried, then it wasn't as serious as she'd feared.

"I'm worried that this is just a warning, Dad… Garrison said that he was supposed to kill Jim, that he worked for someone, this might be another attempt on his life." Joanna's eyes glittered fiercely, and her father paled at the thought. "They weren't trying to kill him, this time… but I think next time, they might."

"Miss McCoy's words are logical." Said Spock from where he was sitting. He appeared to be mostly recovered, and had clearly been listening to their conversation. "The bomb was delivered in a small package from a yeoman. I did not recognize her, but the Captain assumed she was new. Two minutes and twenty seven seconds later the fire bomb went off, knocking most of us unconcscious."

Suddenly, Pavel walked over. "Ve need to check ze security footage end find zhat yeoman. She might be one of zhem."

Leonard stiffened. "Hold on! You aren't doing anything until I'm certain that you are recovered from those trips in the smoke."

"We got the hypos, we'll be fine." Jo insisted.

McCoy was visibly fighting with himself as he fought against his parental instincts. Then he remembered Jim's warning, and he turned to look at the unconscious crew around him. He had patients in far worse condition than them. "Fine. But if you get a headache, or a cough, or _anything_ , you come back to me."

The two nodded in agreement. Spock got up to go follow them, but McCoy blocked his way. "Oh, no you don't. You were in the explosion, and you're not going anywhere until I have checked you off. Besides, Chekov knows what he's doing."

"But, Doctor—"

"Shut your _damn_ mouth, Spock! I said _no_!"

Jo and Pavel were looking through the past security footage, searching for the mysterious yeoman who'd delivered the bomb that could have killed the Captain. It was more difficult than they'd thought it would be, someone had put a virus on the files that made it practically impossible for them to open.

"I got eet!" Pav growled after twenty minutes of fighting the virus. "Take that you—" He swore nastily in Russian. Jo giggled, she loved it when he spoke in his native language.

Chekov looked through the footage, waiting for the moment the strange woman came onscreen. For a few moments, they saw nothing. Everything was as it had been the past few months. Then, the door opened, and blonde woman stepped onto the bridge. She was holding a package approximately the size of a PADD, but covered in brown paper— something that was rarely used anymore, and very expensive.

Jim noticed her and said something, appearing to flirt with her. Spock said something, trying to warn the Captain off, but Jim ignored him and took the package. The woman left without another word. Two minutes and twenty-seven seconds later there was a blinding flash of light, and then only static.

"Back up and zoom in… see if you can get her face." Jo said, leaning over Pavel's shoulder as he did as she asked.

After a few moments, a very grainy image appeared on the screen. "I cen't tell vhat she looks like. She newer looked right at ze camera."

"Can we put this image into the ship's computer and run facial recognition software of anyone on the ship at this moment? Or is it too low resolution?" She asked, her chin resting on her boyfriend's shoulder as she considered the problem at hand.

Pavel stared at the image, considering. "Ve cen try, but eet probably won't work. A lot of people on ze sheep look like her."

"Do it." Jo said eagerly. "We might be able to at least narrow it down for questioning."

It took five minutes for the program to run its course. To both their surprise, it had come up with a match— 93% probability. The Enterprise didn't have her registered in its database, which meant that she was a stowaway, not part of the crew. However, it did have the mystery woman's location on the ship— by the looks of it, she was down in the bowels of Engineering.

Pavel called Spock immediately. "Sor, ve found ze woman. She ees not part of ze crew, sor."

"Thank you, Mr. Chekov." The First Officer said crisply. "I will join you for the interrogation as soon as Doctor McCoy releases me from his care."

There was a crackling noise as McCoy grabbed the communicator from Spock's hands and spoke into it himself. "As much as I hate to admit it, he's perfectly fine. But I'm coming too."

"What?!" Jo hissed. "Dad, you could get hurt. And besides, don't you have patients? Jim?"

A snort. "Darlin', everyone in here is either healed or stable. Jim's goin' to be fine, and Chris knows to let me know if anythin' happens. Besides… she blew up the bridge and could've killed a dozen people. I want to make sure she gets brought in."

The others looked at each other, knowing full well there was no stopping him now that he'd made up his mind. "He ees just like you; stubborn." Pavel muttered to Joanna as they began to walk through the hallways to face the woman who had tried to kill their Captain and the entire bridge crew.

"I am not stubborn!" The two McCoys said at once, their offended tone of voice practically identical. Spock's eyes shifted toward the two. The corners of his mouth twitched. Leonard scowled. "I know you're trying not to smile Spock, I've known you for ten years. So help me God, I will hypo you until you can't tell what's up or down."

The others pretended that the irritated doctor hadn't spoken at all. They all knew he didn't mean it. After all, if he'd actually hypoed Jim as much as he'd threatened to, the man would be a vegetable from all the drugs in his system.

After a few minutes, they were drawing close. Spock and Chekov drew their phasers, looking around them for the mysterious blonde woman. Suddenly, a phaser shot hit only three inches from Jo's head. Immediately, the two officers had their weapons aimed at the direction of the shot. Jo could practically hear her blood pumping rapidly as they scanned the area.

"The freak of nature Vulcan, the ass-ugly CMO, his whore daughter, and the little Russian bastard all come to see me? I must say, I'm flattered that my little bomb meant so much to you." Said a velvety voice as the figure stepped out of the shadows. She was by far the most beautiful woman Jo had ever seen. Her hair was long and silky blonde with gentle waves, her eyes glowed a lovely green color, and she had a gorgeous figure. She could practically hear her father's jaw dropping open.

The four of them each tried to say something, but something about her made it practically impossible to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. Something about her wasn't right, wasn't… human. She smirked. "Nothing to say? Oh, well. I guess I'll do the talking then. Feel free to interrupt, of course."

She paused, waiting for one of them to say something. None of them did. "First of all, I'm not human. I've actually got a special device that makes me look human, and that paired with a truly fantastic set of pheromones make almost everyone prey to me. Personally, I couldn't give a fuck about your precious Captain Kirk… but my employer insists that he die."

Suddenly, Spock spoke. Jo supposed it was easier for him to do his being half Vulcan. "Who is your employer? Why does he want the captain dead?"

She looked surprised, but pleased. "Ooh, I'm impressed. I've rarely come across someone who can resist me. In fact, I'll even answer one of your questions. My employer wants Jim dead due to a past grievance that he wants revenge for. I'm sure exactly what it was, but I know that involved a certain planet that a certain madman took over."

Jo was confused, that had happened to several planets, but the other three's eyes widened in shock and horror. The woman noticed her confusion, and laughed. "Little Bitch McCoy, doesn't know as much about her 'Uncle Jim' as she thought." Jo's eyes narrowed, and she slowly moved her hand to where Chekov's phaser was lying limp at his side. He noticed her hand going toward the weapon and tried to shake his head, but she ignored him.

The woman took a few steps closer, and reached out her hand for Pavel's face. His eyes closed involuntarily, and closer proximity to the pheromones made them all stiffen slightly. Even Jo was wondering how the alien's lips would feel on her own. Spock still seemed mostly unaffected, but even he was struggling internally. The woman leaned in as if to kiss Chekov, _her boyfriend_ , and a surge of possessiveness broke the control over her.

She raised the phaser, made sure it was on stun, and shot the woman in the chest, all in a span of a few seconds. The creature collapsed, the cloaking device apparently not working when she was unconscious. The alien was almost reptilian, with green scales, but had a light coat of peach fur over them.

All four of them relaxed, and Pavel shuddered and wiped the kiss that hadn't actually landed off his face in disgust. "Vell, I em glad zhat ees ower. She vas disgusting."

"If she'd actually kissed you, she'd probably be dead." Jo said, glaring at the unconscious body with hatred.

Her boyfriend kissed her cheek in reassurance, making Joanna relax more. Spock and Doctor McCoy, meanwhile, were searching her for clues before they took her to the brig. "Spock, look, a communicator. It's not Star Fleet reg, either."

"Excellent find, Leonard. Nyota may be able to intercept the frequency." He picked it up and placed it on his belt, reminding himself to ask his partner later that night before they went to bed.

The four looked around at each other, considering the deadly powers of a woman who could freeze men and woman just with the sight of her. "We're going to need to ensure that she can't convince anyone to let her go." Said Leonard darkly. "We don't want her on the loose, escaping or doing God-knows-what."

Pavel put his arm around Jo's shoulder. "Yes. But until zhen, we varn zhem about vhat she can do, and hope for zhe best."

"Perhaps you are right, Mr. Chekov." Said Spock. "Perhaps it is logical to simply… hope for the best."

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry for the super long wait, but I had major writer's block, and this chapter still sucks anyway. On the bright side I** ** _think_** **that I know where I'm going after this... Maybe.**

 **Sorry, no Spock in the prank(s) {I know they were horrible and boring I can't write pranks sorry}, but he did get a more major part in this chapter. Spock's just really hard for me to write.**

 **Sorry again.**

 **Love you guys, please review!**

 **Trellya 3**


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Calm Before the Storm

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Doctor Leonard McCoy stared at the woman through the thick glass holding her in the brig that years ago Khan had stood in. Luckily, her powerful pheromones weren't affecting his senses, freezing his muscles and confusing his mind. After placing her in her cell, they'd realized that they couldn't be affected if they wore an oxygen mask.

He was wearing one now, an uncomfortable thing that clung to his skin with sweat. He wished he didn't need to wear it, but he also didn't want her to convince him to let her out and do God-knows-what. Besides, he wanted to get a sample of her blood and learn a bit about her strange species.

The device that had disguised her as human no longer worked when she'd been hit with the phaser blast it had shorted, but she was still beautiful. No one could deny that. The woman was looking at him seductively, trying to convince him to take off the mask. Leonard ignored her, and pointed at the small hole where she was to stick her arm. "Put it through, I need a blood sample."

She did as told, looking slightly put out that he wasn't even remotely distracted from his task. After the sample was taken, she withdrew the scaly arm to the inside of her cell and sat in the corner, looking desperately bored. Leonard sighed. "If you're so bored, then you shouldn't have blown up the goddamn bridge."

Jim was waiting for him a couple feet away from the door, looking apprehensive. He was mostly recovered now, save for a few small burn scars that would fade after his final dermal regenerator session in fifteen minutes. "You got it, Bones? No trouble?"

He snorted. "Bitch tried to get me to let her go. I told her if she was so damn bored she shouldn't have fucking blown you up."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Was that verbatim?"

"No, as you goddamned know. I'm not _that_ foul-mouthed." Bones protested, removing the oxygen mask and sighing as fresh air hit his face. "Damn, that feels good."

"Joanna and Christine would beg to differ." Jim told him, a grin on his face as he taunted his best friend. It almost felt as though nothing had happened, that the bridge wasn't presently being repaired by Scotty and his men due to all the fire damage and that Jim's face wasn't scarred. Leonard really did hope that the scars went away. He didn't want to be reminded of the incident if at all possible.

Bones shoved those thoughts away and allowed himself to be agrivated by the obvious taunt. "You want foul-mouthed? I'll give you foul-mouthed, you fucking asshole shit-eating son of a bitch. When I'm through with you, you'll—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll wish I didn't have ears. I hate to break it to you, Bones, but you are highly predictable." Jim said idly as they walked through the halls toward the medbay, making sure to keep out of arm's length.

"Why, you—"

"Dad, stop trying to offend him with all your swearing. You've known him for ten years and it hasn't worked once yet." Jo said as she walked past them, amusement in her eyes. She wasn't in her uniform, and was clearly heading toward Chekov's quarters for one of their movie dates. Leonard hadn't been sure of the idea of Jo in a relationship at first, but she was so happy with him that he couldn't help but approve whole-heartedly, as long as the navigator knew that if he broke her heart Leonard would break his neck.

Leonard smiled. "Have fun, darlin', and be safe, I don't want a grandbaby yet."

Jo frowned. "Dad! Do you have so little faith in me?"

"Of course not, darlin'." He assured her, walking over and kissing her forehead.

"Thanks, Daddy." She said quietly before continuing toward her boyfriend's room with a slight bounce in her step.

"Ya know," Bones said as soon as she was gone, "I've always found it suspicious that their breaks are always at the same time."

Jim coughed guiltily. "Well, Spock and I may or may not be assuring that keeps happening. He won't admit it, but Spock's a major romantic. You should hear some of the things he's done for Uhura."

"Somehow, I highly doubt that." Bones said huffily as they reached the medbay, slightly relieved to escape Jim's antics for now.

"Aw, Bones, I'm hurt. You don't believe me? Ask Uhura about the Great Dinner Disaster, and you'll never see him the same way again." Jim insisted, still smiling the grin that usually meant he was lying or greatly exaggerating.

"Mmhmm. I'll do that sometime, if I want to be humiliated." He shoved the captain in the chair and pulled out the dermal regenerator from his pocket. Jo had made it for him for his birthday, and he'd been pleased with its results. He'd made sure to get it approved, of course, before using it on patients. In fact, a patent was pending for the new design. His Joey could be an inventor.

The little machine hummed as it worked, and Jim looked like he wanted to talk. Thankfully, he couldn't, as the regenerator was working on his face, and relied on the area being healed remaining absolutely still. Slowly, some of the scars began to fade, much to Leonard's relief. However, it quickly became clear that a small patch near his temple would never fade. It didn't surprise him, that had been the most severe area of burns, but he did feel a small sinking in his stomach.

Eventually, he stopped. There was nothing more he could do. "Well, you've got a scar on the side of your head, but you should still be able to attract those whores you so enjoy, never fear. Your idiocy is attraction enough for them." He quipped dryly, relishing his small revenge for the verbal lashing he'd received on the way to the medbay.

Jim blinked in surprise and motioned for a mirror. Leornard provided, or rather a nurse did, and after a few moments the man shrugged. "I've had worse."

Bones winced at the comment. He didn't like to be reminded that Jim was one of the Tarsus Nine, a group of nine children that had survived the massacre on the planet of Tarsus IV. As JT he had protected them best he could, stealing and feeding them, even killing for them and taking torture for them. It was a shadowy part of the captain's past that only his closest friends knew about. Himself, Spock, Uhura, Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov.

Thinking of Tarsus made him remember the woman's words concerning her mysterious employer. Clearly, they were someone from Tarsus, or someone who had family die on Tarsus. But what exactly did thirteen year old JT do to inspire them to revenge?

"Bones, you okay? You seem out of it." Jim's voice knocked him back to reality. His friend was looking at him with a very worried expression. "You're not coming down with something, are you?"

"No!" Leonard protested. "No, I was just… thinking. About what the woman said to us about her employer."

Jim looked confused. "Spock never told me that she mentioned her employer."

Leonard froze. Spock had deliberately left out the most important part of the events that occured, simply to keep his feelings intact. It was surprisingly considerate of the half-Vulcan. Then again, Leonard had never himself been a very considerate person outside of physical needs. "She said her employer wanted to kill you… to get revenge for something that involved Tarsus."

Jim's face drained of all color. He could joke about it now, sure, but the thought that one of the things he'd done during those weeks of hell had potentially ruined someone's life had haunted him for years. Now that it was almost certainly a reality, Leonard almost wished he could snatch his words back and leave him in ignorance for a while longer.

"I- I- Fuck." Jim stuttered, at a loss for words.

"Yeah." The Southern doctor agreed, looking at his best friend with pity. "Whatever you did, I'm sure it was to protect your kids. It's no use dwelling on an event we don't know for sure, especially when it's so far in the past. This man needs to let his ghosts settle, and be at peace himself. When we find him we'll tell him that. Okay, Jim?"

Jim looked up and smiled rather falsely, his eyes still filled with sadness. Leonard disguised a sigh. There would be nightmares tonight. "Yeah. Okay, Bones."

"That's you? You're so cute, look at your little cheeks!" Jo cooed. They were comparing old holos of each other from when they were small. Their childhoods were touchy subjects for both of them, but they both still had pictures from when they were very young with everyone happy.

Pavel was three in the holo before them, his head a mass of golden curls, his green eyes large with excitement for some reason. "Eet vas my birthday." He explained. "I vas so excited to get my friends over… back zhen I steel had friends." His smile was bittersweet as he remembered the day. "My father gave me a sip of wodka. I loved eet but he wouldn't let me have more."

"You were three?" Jo chuckled.

Pavel raised an eyebrow. "Veren't you?"

"I was four." She corrected. "Daddy caught me, but he didn't really care enough to make me stop. He made me promise not to tell Mama though."

"I vant to see a peecture of you." Pav said, smiling at her. She rolled her eyes and pulled up one of her family, back when they were still happy, before Jocelyn started cheating on her Daddy. Jo was four and sitting on her father's shoulders. Her parents were holding hands, a grin on their faces, and Grandma McCoy stood next to her son with a serene expression. She had an apron on. "You look so happy." He said with a chuckle.

"Yeah." Jo said. "This is on my birthday too, my fourth. By the time I turned five, my dad had been promoted and was working more, and Jocelyn was bitter. She wanted attention and turned to Clay. By the time I was six, they were getting a divorce, and she twisted the truth so my dad lost everything."

Pavel looked at his own picture sadly. "Een elementary school I skeeped three grades. Zhen I skeeped two more. Eweryone thought I vas a freak, end my father started calling me a demon-child behind my back. Zhey vere scared, I think. Zhey vere scared of what I had the potential to do. End after Mama died…"

"Let's not think about those things anymore." Jo insisted. "We're happy, and those things are the past. We don't need to be controlled by them anymore."

Pavel smiled and drew her close. "But ve shall not forget zhem, no?"

"Of course not." She muttered, leaning in to capture his lips on her own. For a moment, they were lost in each other, happiness bubbling, and then the moment was ruined by Pavel's communicator buzzing.

"Hey, Chekov, are you free? I just got off my last shift and was fancying a game of chess." It was Sulu, as usual, who always seemed to ruin their dates just as they were getting interesting. "Chekov? You asleep, buddy?"

He looked at Jo apologetically. She nodded in assent and he grabbed the communicator. "Da, I em here. You have eempecible timing, my friend."

"Ah, sorry. Jo can come too, if she wants to. We can have a tournament, or something." Sulu said, trying to repair the awkward situation.

Pavel glanced at Jo, who grinned and nodded. It had been a while since she'd slaughtered Hikaru in holo chess. "She says ok. We will be zhere in a leetle beet." As soon as he'd hung up, Pavel looked at his girlfriend. "I em sorry about zhat. Ze fates must be against us." He joked.

Jo shook her head. "It's fine, I like beating Hikaru at chess."

"But not me?" He asked mischievously.

She scowled. "You know full well that I can't beat you."

He leaned forward. **"But you love it."** He said in Russian tauntingly. **"You love it when I beat you, you always have."**

"So?" She said in an offended voice.

"I vasn't insulting you."

"Come on, Pav. Let's go. We don't want to keep Karu waiting." Jo said with a smirk.

"What the hell do you mean by 'highly likely to escape,' Spock? That she's inevitably going to get out of here and make us her personal zombies?" Leonard McCoy snarled furiously. Spock's analysis team had finished with the blood sample, as well as a sample of her pheromones taken the day before, and was currently delivering the results.

Spock looked like he was struggling to be patient. "Doctor McCoy, those variables apply only if we enter the cell room without an oxygen mask or filter to prevent the chemicals getting into our lungs, and thus our bloodstream. I simply wished to inform you of this possibility to ensure that it doesn't occur."

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dammit, Spock, that's like saying that she's guaranteed to get out any moment now! Do you know how many people are on this ship, and how many of them are dumb enough to go check her out even though we've sent out a warning?"

Spock's lips flattened slightly. "Doctor, I understand the gravity of the situation. The probability of an escape is 93.279% by my calculations, but I have yet to give you the worst conclusion of our results."

McCoy felt his insides freeze in horror. "What?"

"It would appear that she is, in fact, telekinetic."

"What?" He said dumbly, staring blankly at the half-Vulcan. "But that's impossible, telekinesis doesn't exist."

Spock's lips straightened slightly. "We had no evidence of such a species existing until now, and so had no reason to believe it was possible. However, security footage of her cell has revealed her use of telekinesis to move the objects in her cell around the space. She seems to be testing the glass for weaknesses."

Leonard closed his eyes, trying not to let panic from the situation overtake him. "And has she found any?"

The first officer looked incredibly uncomfortable, and seemed to wilt slightly under McCoy's stare. "Not yet. But our scans have shown a flaw in the glass, and if she locates this flaw and exploits it, there would be little we could do to stop her from murdering the captain."

Leonard bristled with anger, letting the new emotion take the place of his fear. "Then move her the fuck out of there!"

"It would be most illogical, Doctor." Spock chastised. "She did not reveal her most potent weapon before in order to get less security. If we move her to a different cell, there would be ample opportunity for her to use her ability to free herself and kill Jim. If we take her from the cell voluntarily, the probability of her success rises to 100%. If she remains, it is only 93%."

McCoy glared. "Oh, like seven fucking percent makes it any better." He spat, face red with anger. "We can't let her kill Jim, dammit!"

"We shall not, Leonard." Spock said, knowing full well the use of his first name would calm him down significantly. "I reported to you in person for more reason than one."

"And what's the other reason?" He said sarcastically. The anger was draining slowly from his head, letting the fear well up once more. Jim was his best friend, his brother in all but blood. He wasn't going to let the person who brought him back from the edge of alcoholism be assassinated by some bastard with a personal vendetta.

Spock raised an eyebrow, as though surprised McCoy hadn't figured it out already. The grumpy doctor opened his mouth to tell off the Vulcan for assuming he was smarter than he was, when the first officer spoke. "I came to formulate a plan, Leonard. We must ensure that Jim will not die."

Leonard felt relief rise in him, and suddenly he realized he was chuckling, great guffaws as his fear and anger drained away, leaving relief and hope. Maybe Jim wouldn't die after all. "Well, my friend," He said, a broad grin on his face. "We better get crackin'."

The alien in the brig was desperately bored. She hadn't thought of the possibility of capture further than controling her telekinesis to keep it a secret, but here she was, in a cell that had once held Khan himself, a great wall of perfectly clear glass separating her from the rest of the ship— and her target.

The alien, named Hadrei, was an assassin, trained to take out targets as inconspicuously as possible. Her pheromones and telekinesis, both of which she could control completely, paired with her cloaking device to disguise her as any species she wished made her a perfect assassin. Until now.

The bomb she'd been given hadn't destroyed the bridge and killed the captain as she had been told it would. Instead, it had set the place on fire and only minorly injured everyone, forcing Hadrei to run to Engineering and hope they couldn't find her. Unfortunately, the computer sensors could see through her cloaking, which made it easy for her to be found via security cameras that seemed to coat every inch of the ship.

She'd allowed herself to reveal her telekinesis, knowing full well that Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy would try to find a way to stop her 'inevitable' escape attempt. But she wasn't planning on escaping, not yet. Hadrei had been assigned more than one target when she was smuggled aboard the Enterprise, and eventually the perfect opportunity would arise for her to take them out.

Even better, she'd be able to take them out so quickly no one would be able to stop her, especially since they knew next to nothing about telekinesis in general, let alone her own particularly strong abilities. They probably thought (thanks to her strategic use of her abilities, using primarily small objects and moving them extremely limited ranges) she had a highly limited range on her telekinesis, limited enough that she'd only be able to lift things inside her cell. They were wrong, and it would cost a life in the end.

Hadrei smiled viciously, thoughts of the life fading from her second victim's eyes maing her boredom vanish. Her reptilian eyes flashed, and the small objects around her cell began to float around her in anticipation of the task ahead. Soon, maybe today, perhaps tomorrow, she was going to assassinate her second target, a target that was going to feel the taste of her employer's revenge.

She couldn't wait.

Tara Trenton was dealing pretty well with the aftermath of the Sanders murder, she decided as she took a swig of the bottle of whiskey in front of her. She'd replicated it half an hour ago, and a good portion had already been consumed. She knew she should feel drunk, but Tara had always had a high tolerance for alcohol, something that had only gotten stronger during the weeks following the events she witnessed and the consequences of her silence.

If she'd told someone sooner, then maybe, just maybe, Rhine wouldn't have been tortured, and maybe a man wouldn't have died. He was a murderer, but still a man, and he didn't deserve to die because she'd been stupid enough to see the murder and not run to Spock or Jim.

 _No,_ Tara scolded herself internally, _don't think about that. It'll only make you feel worse._ She took another swig of the whiskey, relishing the slow spiral into ignorance and oblivion.

Jo didn't know about her new drinking habits, not that she'd ever tell her friend that she wasn't nearly as ok as she'd pretended to be. Rhine, a man who had done nothing but be helpful and supportive, had been horrifically tortured because she'd been stupid enough to tell him, knowing full well that one of his henchmen was from Security and therefore could easily access security footage. It was all her fault.

Everything was always her fault, her mother had been right. She'd blamed Tara for her husband's death, ignoring the fact that Tara had done nothing but beg her father to stay home with her, ignoring the fact that Tara had lost her father and was grieving him as well, ignoring the fact that her hurtful words would lead to a whisper of doubt and self-hatred throughout her life.

She'd had drinking problems before, just before signing up to join the Academy. Her mother had disowned her, calling her disgusting and a husband-killer, and Tara had fallen into the bottle despite being underage, longing to make everything go away and make her father come back.

She'd never told Jo about it. She'd gotten over it after a couple of months, and Tara was certain that after a few more weeks she'd be right as rain, not needing a bottle of whiskey every other night to stop the nightmares from coming. Tara didn't need Joanna, she was her own person.

 _You should tell her,_ said her conscience quietly. _She can help you, she helped you get over your dad, even if she was focusing on the wrong thing._

 _No!_ Her more selfish side replied. _No! I refuse. I'm not some useless dandy that needs their friend to get everything done for them. Jo can stay out of my private life and deal with her precious Pav._

That was another thing. Tara had been falling for Pavel when he proclaimed his love for her. It was devastating to hear of, knowing that he'd never want her, would never even settle for her when the tiniest chance of having Joanna McCoy as his girlfriend remained a possibility. Suddenly, instead of the glue, Tara was the third wheel, left out of everything and forgotten.

Tara took to working longer and longer shifts, coming up with excuses to stay away from the happy couple. She tried so hard to be happy for them, especially since not that long ago she'd wished they would get together, but her own feelings for Pavel created a cloud of resentment toward her best friend. If Jo noticed her distance and coldness, she said nothing, which only led Tara to distance herself even more from the two. Clearly they didn't need her or want her. No one wanted her.

With a mild jolt of surprise, Tara noticed the bottle of whiskey was half gone. If she wanted to stick to her personal rule of only half a bottle a sitting, she would have to stop now. She managed to place the stopper in the bottle and stored it under her bed, her judgement clouded by the alcohol filling her brain like a soft blanket, encouraging her to take a rest from her troubles and forget everything, to let herself go.

With only a hint of remaining misery within her, Tara allowed herself to fall asleep. When she awoke, she'd have a horrid hangover. Scotty would be pissed again, yell at her for drinking when she knew full well she had the early shift the next morning. And Tara would apologize as always, promise not to do it again, but both knew that the next morning it would be the same situation.

Little did she know that several floors away the alien captive was plotting her murder.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **Not** ** _that_** **long between updates... That's an improvement, right? Right?**

 **Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. Next one will be a doozy.**

 **So, tell me: do you think I'll kill off Tara and/or Jim or not?**

 **I want to hear your opinion!**

 **Let me know!**

 **Trellya Sigma**


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Assassins and Victims

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Hadrei was ready to make her move. Judging from the whispers from her guards, a certain Tara Theresa Trenton had been punished for coming to her shift hungover for every day for the past month. She was being suspended from her duties in Engineering and being forced to 'babysit' Hadrei herself.

They were idiots. Had they not thought that her employer would get revenge for the murder of his brother? He'd wanted to kill Pavel Chekov originally, his killer, until someone had pointed out that if Tara hadn't squealed, no one would have known until the captain was dead. So, she'd been hired to make an attempt on both Tara's and the Captain's lives. She may have failed with the bomb, but for Trenton she would use her more traditional techniques.

And she would _not_ fail.

With a soft whirr, the door to the brig opened, revealing Tara Trenton. She was clearly still hungover, she was squinting against the bright lights and winced at the volume of the taunts coming from the departing Security officers.

"Don't fuck this up, you drunk loser!"

"Yeah, don't hide something for a month this time!"

Trenton sat down in the chair. As soon as they left, she spoke. "Lights to 50%." The lights dimmed considerably, and she relaxed.

Hadrei stepped up to the glass, violence gleaming in her eyes. "I'm going to kill you." She spat, hatred in her eyes. She was pleased to see that the girl heard her.

"What?"

Hadrei smirked. "I am going to kill you, Tara Theresa Trenton. You are my next target."

She stood up and stalked over to the cell. "Shut up, you alien whore. I didn't do anything to your employer, whoever the fuck he is."

The alien woman smiled broadly, her reptilian features twisting. "Oh, but that's where you're so, so wrong." She purred sweetly, cleaning her nails idly with her fingers. "Before I left, he gave me a message for you."

"And—" Trenton's voice caught in her throat. "And what was it?"

She slammed her open palms on the glass, pressing her forked tongue to its smooth surface before snarling her reply. "He said to tell you that _no one gets my baby brother killed and gets away with it, you cowardly human slut._ "

Tara backed up in horror, and Hadrei saw the girl's worst fears coming to life before her. It was delicious, made her smile more genuinely. "But I didn't— I didn't want him to— I didn't mean to—"

"A man is still dead, Tara Trenton," Hadrei snarled. "and you may have your mask on, but I can still kill you." Using her telekinesis, she drew the phaser out of its holster and switched the setting to kill.

With her hangover, Trenton's reflexes were slower than usual, and she couldn't grab it in time. "Please," she begged, tears in her eyes, "I don't want to die. _Please._ "

"I don't give a _damn_ about what you want." Hadrei shrieked as she pulled the trigger.

The girl collapsed to the ground, fiery red hair splayed around her like a halo of blood. She carefully floated the gun into the girl's outstretched head. It would look just like a suicide.

Tara Trenton was dead.

Hadrei used Trenton's pass card to unlock her cell. She stepped out gratefully, savoring the taste of freedom on her tongue. She had succeeded in one of her tasks, and she was about to finish her first one. James T. Kirk was going to die.

Jo went to her shift the morning after the epic chess tournament that resulted yet again with Hikaru in last, Jo in second, and Pavel in first to find a juicy bit of gossip awaiting her. At least, that's what Nancy thought.

"Jo, did you hear? Tara Trenton's been put on guard duty for showing up hungover for the past month!" Nancy said excitedly.

Instead of gasping and being excited as the other woman had expected, Jo was horrified. "What?!"

"She's apparently been drinking enough every night to get a hangover, so Scotty—"

"I heard you," Jo said, "But I don't understand how she could be struggling with alcoholism and not tell me what's wrong. I'm her best friend!"

Nancy paused, and a small, sad smile came across her face. "Are you really?"

"What?" Jo scoffed. "Of course I am! I have been ever since we met on the—"

Nancy cut her off. "That might be so, but you've been ignoring her ever since you and Chekov got together. And keep in mind that she went through a traumatizing experience that nearly got several of her friends killed and _did_ get someone else killed. In her mind, you abandoned her."

Jo froze, realizing exactly what the nurse was saying. "Oh my God."

"Yeah. So, do you want to—"

"I'm gonna go talk to her." Jo said, eyes wide. "Jesus. I've been a horrible friend. If something happens, call me."

"You can't just—"

"Nancy." Jo begged. "Please."

She sighed. Nancy had never been fond of Jo, but hardly anything was happening at the moment. "Fine. Get out of here before your father or Christine comes in."

"Thank you, Nancy, thank you." Jo gasped, jogging out of the med bay and down to where she knew Tara was going to be stationed. They only had one prisoner currently, after all.

She was going to apologize for being such a bad friend; she was going to make it right again; she was going to—

As soon as she opened the door, Jo screamed.

Jim was just about to lose to Spock at chess when his communicator beeped. Normally when he was interrupted in chess he'd check to see who it was from and then proceed to shut it off until they were over. This time, however, he was losing so horrifically he practically jumped for the communicator.

After seeing the caller ID, he grinned. "Joey! How are you? I'm about to lose to Spock in chess… I'd thought I'd improved, but apparently not."

Silence. Then, muffled crying.

"Jo?" He said worriedly. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"N-no. _I'm_ okay… It's just… oh Jesus…" Her voice was shaky with some emotion he couldn't identify.

"Joey, speak to me."

Another quiet sob. "It's Tara… She's _dead._ "

Jim was shell-shocked. " _What do you mean she's dead?!_ "

Jo took a shaky breath. "I-it looks like she k-killed herself, and then the prisoner used her card to escape."

"THE PRISONER ESCAPED? WHY DIDN'T YOU _LEAD_ WITH THAT?" Jim shrieked. He could sense Spock's alarm across the room. His first officer strode over to him.

"Jim, we must ensure that you are protected and not a successful target." Spock said seriously. "We must obtain masks so her pheromones do not affect us."

"You do that, Spock, I'm talking to Jo." Jim snapped. "So you're telling me that for some reason Tara Trenton killed herself while watching a dangerous captive who then proceeded to escape?"

"I— yes." Her voice was still shaky, but the adreneline and anger at her friend's death were helping her gain control. "My best g-guess is that she talked Tara into doing it, she was already mentally un-unstable." The last two words were choked and filled with regret and especially guilt.

"Mentally unstable?" Jim said in confusion. Why should she be depressed? Surely Jo had been helping her after the situation a month ago.

Jo was quiet for a second on her end of the line, trying to think of the words to say. "I was stupid. I practically abandoned her after I got Pavel back and everything with Rhine was over, and I didn't… Didn't see what was wrong, didn't even notice she'd been drinking every night until…" She trailed off, tears evident in her voice.

"Jesus."

"I think it might be my fault. That she… that she… you know."

"Bullshit."

Jo paused in surprise. "What?"

"Bullshit," Jim repeated. "If she really did kill herself because of that alien bitch, then it wasn't your fault. I'm sure she didn't blame you."

Jo laughed shortly, tears clearly still in her voice. "I'm a horrible friend."

"So am I." Jim pointed out. "I'm a selfish bastard that has no self-preservation instinct and teases his best friend mercilessly."

Jo chuckled. "My dad loves your teasing, even if he won't admit it."

"Well, why should Tara's death be your fault?" He pointed out, leaving the question hanging. After realizing she wouldn't say anything, he continued. "I'll leave that there. I've got to defend myself against a potential assassin."

"What do _I_ do?" Jo asked as Jim fitted his oxygen mask around his face.

When he spoke, it was muffled, and much quieter. "Get your mask and look for her. If you find her, nail her for information… but try not to kill the bitch. We need her alive, unfortunately."

"Okay, Uncle Jim." Jo said quietly, sounding unsure. "I'll try."

Jim chuckled sadly. "You'll do great, Joey. I believe in you. Now find the bitch, or find Chekov. Both will make you feel better."

"Bye, Jim. Please don't die."

"Kid, I've died several times. Hasn't stopped me yet." Jim promised as he hung up. He turned to his First Officer, who was wearing his own mask and looked quite worried for an emotionless Vulcan. "What's the plan, Spock?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Jim," Spock admitted, "however, my main goal in this mission is to keep you alive and uncaptured."

Jim shrugged, trying to forget the knowledge of Tara Trenton's death, a possible suicide or a possible murder. "I'm game for that."

Pavel Chekov had an itching feeling that something had gone horribly wrong as he sat at his post, waiting for the Captain and Spock to finish up their usual morning game of chess and head to the bridge. He glanced sneakily at Hikaru, wondering if he, too, felt like the world was about to end.

Slowly, he realized why he felt so odd. Jo was extremely, upset, devastated even, and it was affecting him. Maybe they were soul mates after all. It was one thing to know if someone was having a bad dream, but another entirely to know when they were upset in general.

"Karu, something's wrong." He said quietly, glancing around the bridge, searching for the non-existant proof of the problem. The burn marks and half-rebuilt consoles reminded him of the bomb, and Pavel knew deep down that he probably would have taken the package from his Captain and protected him if he'd been there. He was torn about whether or not he wished he'd been there to do that.

Sulu frowned and looked at his much younger friend. "What the hell are you—"

Suddenly, a loud voice echoed through the speakers of the ship. To everyone's surprise, it was Joanna McCoy speaking. Pavel felt his heart grow still. "Attention, everyone! The prisoner has escaped. She is loose somewhere on the ship, and her guard, Tara Trenton is… is dead." Her voice shook at the last two words, and Pavel felt his world crash around him. Tara, his second best friend, dead? "Please locate your oxygen masks and _do not remove them_. If you see the prisoner, contain her, do _not_ kill her. I repeat, do _not_ kill the prisoner. McCoy out. Good luck." The speaker clicked off.

Instantly, everyone was on high alert. "Where the hell is Jim?!" Uhura snapped.

"Probably hiding and protecting us. He was her last target." Sulu pointed out. "Spock's probably with him, which means we're in trouble. We have no commanders."

"Ve could call heem." Pavel pointed out. Everyone stared at him. He shrugged. "Ees worth a shot."

Uhura shrugged, and turned to her console. "Captain Kirk, do you read me? We request information. Captain, are you alright?" She paused, and turned back to Sulu. "Nothing. I'll try Spock." She repeated her message, and this time sighed in relief as Spock apparently answered her. "Thank God you're okay. One second, I'm going to give this to the room."

"Very well, Nyota. Is it done?" Spock's words sounded in the room, almost as though he were there with them.

"Yes. Say hello, everyone." She quipped.

"Eh— hello." Chekov said to the silent room.

"Spock, where are you? Why didn't Jim pick up?" Nyota pressed, worry clearly showing on her face. "Jo said that Tara Trenton was dead, and… and what the hell is going on here?"

"It would appear that the alien convinced Miss Trenton to kill herself and then used her card to escape her cell." Spock said stiffly. "Jim is fine. He is telling me that he turned his communicator off and that I'm not to tell you where we are on the ship. He also says that the computer temporarily will not locate us if asked."

Pavel buried his head in his hands. Tara had killed herself? Why? And, now that he thought of it, why was she on guard duty anyway? She was an Engineer, not a Security officer. It didn't make any sense.

Hikaru spoke up. "What's the plan, then?"

There was a pause during which they could hear muffled arguing as Jim and Spock fought over the communicator. When a voice was audible, it was Jim's. "We're hoping to find the little bitch before she can 1. kill me, 2. escape via our transporter, or 3. use her telekinesis of unknown strength to destroy the Enterprise. After we locate her… well, we've gotta find her first, don't we?" He said, the flaw in the plan becoming painfully obvious.

"I vill help. I vill keell her once she ees found." Pavel found himself saying. The people surrounding him, several of whom had known him since his first mission at 17 years old, were staring at him in shock. "Don't look at me like zhat." He added with a snap, glaring at his friends and collegues with an offended expression.

"No," the Captain replied immediately. "Absolutely not. I'll probably end up going after her myself."

"But sir," Uhura said with a frown, "doesn't that defeat the purpose of trying not tolet her kill you?"

Distantly they could hear Spock saying something that sounded suspiciously like "Nyota's words _are_ logical, Captain." The bridge crew smirked as Uhura went red. "Dammit, Spock, I'm not going to send in my men to _die_ when _I'm_ the one she wants!" Jim shouted angrily, and they could hear the emotion in his voice.

"Jim, we are villing to die for you." Pavel pointed out gently, trying to be as soothing as possible. He then spoke a phrase in Russian that his mother had always told him when he was upset, or when she was very sick before her death.

Kirk paused. "What does that mean?"

Pavel felt his lips curl into a bittersweet smile as he remembered his mother's voice. "Zhere vill be a happily ewer after."

Kirk laughed sadly. "I'm sorry, Chekov, but I don't know if there will be." With that, he hung up the call, and Pavel had a feeling he was going to turn off the communicator. They all sat there in shock, unsure about what to do.

Chekov felt a stab of determination. "Vell, zhe computer has located her before. Vhy should eet not do eet again?"

Instantly, the hopeless atmosphere became charged with adrenaline and determination to find the escapee and recapture her before Jim would have to. Fingers began hitting their consoles frantically as they set up the algorithms to locate the alien woman wherever she might be.

Suddenly, a young woman in the science department spoke up, her voice wavering. "I-I've found her."

"What is it?" Sulu demanded, and Pavel realized he was slipping into his commander mentality.

"She's got Doctor McCoy captive." She said quietly. "And the Captain and Commander Spock are already there."

 **"Fuck."** Chekov spat, standing up and striding over to her console. After noting her location in the quarters of the good doctor, he went to the exit of the bridge. "I em going vhezher you vant me to or not. Eef you want to come too zhat ees not my choice." Only Sulu and Uhura got to their feet, not that he was surprised. "Ve vill be back." He promised. "Vith ze Captain."

Leonard McCoy was having a rotton day. It had started out well enough, until he'd been knocked out by a flying god-knows-what on his way to the mad bay. When he'd awoken, he'd found himself tied to his bed in his quarters, a gag in his mouth. Never a good sign. The next thing he noticed was a reptilian woman above him, a smile on her lips.

"Shit." He muttered through his gag.

"No," said the woman with a chuckle, "my name is Hadrei. You're probably wondering why I've got you here."

McCoy snorted. Obviously.

Her eyes gleamed dangerously. "Bait. Once the footage gets pulled up by your precious captain, revealing the fact that his best friend is a hostage, he will come at once, and I will be able to take out my final target."

"Final?" Leonard muttered through the cloth.

Somehow, she understood him. "Indeed. Haven't you heard? Tara Trenton is dead. I killed her, and everyone thinks she killed herself. Quite pathetic, really, she wasn't that depressed at all. Begged me not to kill her, like that would make any difference."

Bones felt his vision swimming in shock. Tara Trenton, his daughter's 'Jim', as he liked to put it, dead? Murdered? "Oh, don't look so shocked." Hadrei laughed. "She was living on borrowed time. The moment she betrayed my employer's brother, she was a dead woman walking."

Brother? Leonard's eyes widened in shock. When he got out of this, if he got out of this, he'd have to research Garrison and see what they knew about him. Maybe he'd be able to figure out who the hell was trying to murder his best friend.

Hadrei opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off as the door to his quarters opened, revealing Jim and Spock. Both looked murderous, but as soon as Jim saw that his friend was at least unharmed, he relaxed slightly.

"Bones. Jesus Christ, you okay?" He asked worriedly.

Leonard grunted through his gag and glared at Jim, hoping he'd leave before he got himself killed. Instead, Hadrei pulled off the gag from his face and threw it across the room idly. "Now that you're here, we'll have a little chat. I like to talk to my victims before I kill them."

"Like Tara?" Bones growled angrily.

The assassin's smile widened. "Just like Tara. Little bitch begged for mercy before I killed her."

Jim's eyes widened as he realized the truth. He shoved it aside to worry about more pertinent matters. "Who the fuck is trying to kill me, and why?" He demanded.

She shrugged. "My employer. He wouldn't tell me everything, but… he said it had something to do with Tarsus IV."

Jim winced. "I don't like to think about Tarsus."

"Neither does he." Hadrei said dryly. "Especially since you apparently left him to rot in Kodos' dungeons."

All the color that had been in Jim's face drained away, leaving nothing but a sickly pale color. Leonard was confused. He hadn't said anything about leaving someone in Kodos' dungeons. In fact, he'd spoken very little about his time being tortured by Kodos and his men. "I— I was only thirteen, I didn't mean to— I couldn't—"

"Look, I don't know what you did, and I honestly don't give a fuck." Hadrei said in a bored voice. "I'm an assassin. I do my job, I do it well, and I get paid. I've completed one half of my mission, and now I'm going to complete the other. Say goodbye, James Tiberius Kirk."

Before she could do anything, the door burst open again, revealing Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura. Leonard felt his face relax. Surely between the five of them one of the genius' would capture her and free him. Jim looked angry. "No! No, Chekov, I said no! I will not let you risk your lives for mine when yours are not at risk."

"On the contrary, Captain," Hadrei said, "Mr. Chekov was on my list of secondary targets."

The kid blanched, looking shocked as the assassin revelled in his fear. "Vhat deed I do?"

Her amused gaze hardened to steel. She leaned forward, hatred in her eyes. "You killed his brother, you bastard. What kind of man murders another when they could easily be spared?"

Chekov was frozen, thick layers of guilt suffocating him so his breaths became shallow. He was beginning to hyperventilate. McCoy knew that this was his worst nightmare, a killing in self-defense leading to the deaths of those he loved. "Kid, breath, keep your head." Leonard begged, but he knew that it was falling on deaf ears. He needed Jo there to calm him, but he wouldn't send her to this potential death trap if his life depended on it. Uhura tried instead, whispering comforting words while keeping an eye on the reptilian assassin.

"I'm getting tired of talking." Hadrei snarled, and floated a phaser out of its holster. Not to his surprise, she pointed it straight at him. "Send everyone else out, or he dies."

"Jim, don't you dare." Leonard said steadily.

"Bones…"

"Jim, don't you fucking dare. I can't just sit here and watch you die."

"Neither can I!" He shouted, tears in his eyes. "I can't do it, Bones! You're my best friend."

Hadrei shook her head. "Too much talking." She pulled the trigger.

It hit him in the side, making him scream with pain. To his surprise, he wasn't dead. It wasn't on kill, he realized. Glancing down at the wound, he saw blood. His breathing was ragged. "Don't. You. Dare." Jim stared at his wound, horrified. "Jim. Please."

Jim stared at him, fear in his eyes. They hardened. "They're not going anywhere." He decided firmly.

Hadrei sighed. "So be it."

The phaser clicked to kill and moved to point at Chekov. It happened so fast, none of them could have stopped it. She pulled the trigger and a beam of light shot at the kid. He was still shaking, but collected enough to realize he was about to die.

"NO!" Screamed Hikaru Sulu as he leapt in front of the bolt. It collided with his body, sending him slowly to the floor as his life drained away.

In seconds, it was over. Hikaru Sulu, the pilot extrordanaire, Pavel's best friend for years and roommate at the Academy, was dead. He had sacrificed himself for the younger man.

"Karu…" Pavel whispered. "Karu, no. Hikaru! HIKARU!" His words dissolved into sobs. The rest of them were visibly shaken. Uhura was crying silently, and Spock had involuntarily placed his arm around hers, a stonier expression than usual on his face.

Hadrei stared at the body with a morbid fascination. "Funny. I didn't expect that. So selfless… But he was a fool to give up his life like that. Now, I should probably finish my job, no?"

She looked up from the body to find Jim Kirk pointing his phaser at her, tears of grief and fury in his eyes. She looked impressed, and opened her mouth to say something, but the Captain cut her off. " _No one_ kills my crew." He fired the shot, and she fell to the ground, twitching. Seconds later, it stopped. Leonard knew instinctively that she was dead. Personally, he didn't give a fuck. One of his best friends was dead.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **Fast update, huh?**

 **I'm really sorry for the angst this will cause.**

 **Sorry for pulling Sulu's death with no warning... If it makes you feel better, it was either Bones, Uhura, or Sulu, and I hoped that Sulu would be the least emotionally traumatizing. Although it would have been interesting to write Spock after her death.**

 **Anyway, I hope you're happy! Sort of!**

 **Trellya**


	21. Chapter Twenty: Picking Up the Pieces

CHAPTER TWENTY

Pavel Chekov was standing next to Joanna McCoy stiffly, his face impassive as Jim said a few final words about their friends before releasing their bodies into space. Tara Trenton and Hikaru Sulu were dead, and he was certain that the death of his oldest friend, of Karu, was entirely his fault. If he hadn't insisted on going to confront the assassin while knowing full well that Spock was there to protect the Captain, if he hadn't completely broken down about something stupid, then he would've dodged, and Hikaru wouldn't be dead.

"Eet should haf been me." He said darkly, staring at the body in front of him. He wanted to cry, and his eyes burned, but no tears came. He was simply empty, a shell. His first friend, who'd always been there for him, and he'd thrown him away like a sack of potatoes.

Jo glanced at him. She, too, looked empty and without tears, but there was still a spark. "Hikaru willingly saved your life. He made his choice."

"Vell, he shouldn't haf had to make eet een zhe first place!" Pavel spat, eyes finally swimming with the tears he longed for for so long. He switched to Russian unconsciously as his sorrow overtook his senses. **"He should be standing here, not… not…"** Something in him snapped, and his emptiness was filled with unimaginable grief.

Joanna held him as he sobbed, and he felt her own tears drip slowly into his curly hair. **"I know, Pasha,"** she said in a soothing voice, using the nickname he hadn't heard since childhood. In that moment, he imagined his mother was there, not his girlfriend, her gentle voice washing over him. **"I miss him too."**

Later that day in his quarters, Jim Kirk was feeling miserable. He'd always been sensitive about his crew, always felt responsible for their deaths. Even if he'd only recognized their name, or not even that, each and every person on his ship was a member of his extended family. But the bridge crew that he interacted with daily… they were his brothers and sisters.

Yes, he liked that analogy. Brothers and sisters. And one of his brothers had died. Worse, he'd been murdered.

Sulu… He'd been a brave man, and loyal to a fault. No matter what happened, he never abandoned those he cared about, even at the cost of his own life.

A lump formed in Jim's throat. He'd sacrificed himself to save Chekov, another of his closest brothers. He knew that the younger man was taking it very hard. Sulu had been his first true friend, before Joanna even. From what little he'd seen of Chekov in the past two days, he'd seemed like he'd clammed up in an attempt to separate himself from the painful feelings of guilt and grief.

Jim knew better than anyone that that wouldn't work.

Abruptly, his thoughts twisted direction to that of the man trying to kill him. It was all his fault, really. He'd promised, and he'd told the boy that he never broke his promises, and then he left him there to rot, not caring whether or not he was saved.

Jim had been captured by Kodos' men, and they were torturing him for information on the childrens' whereabouts. He refused every day, and eventually they threw him into a prison in the dark, promising he'd never see the light of day again.

It was there Jim— who called himself JT at the time— met Marcus Avery. He wasn't sure why he was there (he didn't really care, to be honest), but he too had gone through horrific torture sessions and days in the dungeon. Marcus was ten years old to his thirteen, and through their in-the-dark chats they became friends.

Eventually, JT promised that when he escaped, he'd bring Marcus with him and they'd lead his band of kids together. He meant it, too, he never thought for a second that he'd break his word, something he'd previously prided himself on never doing, simply because he 'didn't have time.' To this day, he couldn't believe it. The boy who had been his friend, who was counting on him to be free again, had remained in captivity for who knows how long because he was too selfish to risk getting Marcus out of his own cell, too. He'd said he'd come back for him, but they both had known he wouldn't.

A curl of disgust with himself curled up in his chest, and Jim shook his head. Chekov could think what he wished, but it was _his_ fault that any of the deaths had happened in the first place. From Ensign Sanders to Rhine being tortured to Tara Trenton and Sulu, they were all on him. And he hated it.

Jim lashed out in anger, punching the mirror hanging on his bathroom wall and shattering it. Shards of glass sliced into his hand, and blood splashed into the sink, staining the white surface. "Damn it." He growled through gritted teeth, the only acknowledgement of the pain he'd allow himself to express.

Realizing that he'd need to see Bones to heal his cuts, Jim grabbed one of his dirty golden shirts and wrapped the injured right hand in it. He watched the small crimson stains slowly grow for a second before finally heading up to the medical bay where he knew Bones would be.

Bones didn't like to be in his quarters much now, not after he'd seen Hikaru Sulu, a friend for over ten years, drop dead defending the man who had once been nothing more than a boy on a starship, hoping for a future. He'd admitted it to Jim after only a glass or two of bourbon, which Jim knew by now meant that he was extremely upset and disturbed.

"Whenever I go in there, all I can see is his body, sittin' there, and me being helpless to do anythin'." He'd said. "And there's this— this stain, this bloodstain on the carpet from where 'e fell down, and I can't get it out. So I can't stay in there."

Jim worried for his friend, just like he worried for Chekov and Joanna. The two had both lost their next best friends, and they were rightfully devastated. But Bones had always been more complex than them, far more complex than people gave him credit for. Everyone only took him at face value, but the grumpy, uncaring Southern doctor was only the top layer, and as you got closer to his core you began to realize how deeply his feelings ran within him.

Bones might be damn good at hiding it, but he was in terrible shape. The fact that he'd even admitted his reluctance to sleep in his room was a testament to that. Jim was probably going to assign him one of the empty quarters so he could start afresh and not have to worry about the memories in the place anymore, nor the bloodstain that wouldn't leave.

Jim knew that it wouldn't do much, but he hoped it would help.

He reached the med bay and calmly stepped in, throwing away the bloodstained shirt as he walked over to where Bones was sitting, his head in his hands, a half-full bottle of fine Earth bourbon next to him. Jim pondered whether or not he should make a joke about his clumsiness to relieve the tension, but decided against it. He didn't think his friend would take it well, and he honestly didn't think he could tell one today, anyway. Not when his friend was floating in space as a corpse.

"Bones, I need a regenerator," he admitted. The doctor didn't even look up. "I broke my mirror and cut my hand." Nothing. Bones' shoulders continued to shake slightly as he presumably cried. "Bones, you okay?"

Finally, Bones looked up. He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot from crying and drinking, his hair a mess, and he looked thoroughly miserable. Jim hadn't seen him this drunk since the early days at the Academy, back when he was still struggling with his alcoholism. It had been years since he'd had more than a glass during one night. A relapse was bad news.

"Get Christine." He croaked. "'M not fit to treat ya." Jim had forgotten that his accent was thicker when he was drunk.

He sighed, and glanced at his bleeding hand. It was starting to drip on the ground, so he wrapped it in his current shirt. He could wait. He needed to talk to Bones right now, knock some sense into him. "Bones, you know you shouldn't be drinking so much." He tried, staring at his drunk friend.

"O' course I know, asshole." He spat angrily, and Jim felt a spike of hurt. He knew that when Bones was drunk his insults were always genuine. "That doesn't mean I care."

"Bones, last time your drinking almost ruined your life." Jim pleaded. "It took almost all our time at the Academy before you could handle being in the same _room_ as a drink. I don't want you to destroy yourself again."

Bones looked up, anger shining in his eyes. "I don't. Fuckin'. Care. Two days ago I watched one of my best friends be murdered in my own quarters, and I– I can't handle it, okay?!"

Jim paused, staring at his bleeding hand once more. He knew that Bones wouldn't really care, but he'd come to talk to his friend, and he intended to do so. "I cut my hand punching my mirror. I was angry at myself. Still am. I almost didn't come, made myself deal with the pain alone, but I… I dunno, Bones, sometimes hearing you bitch about being careful helps me deal with everything, with all the shit that I've got in my life. Sulu died, and it's all my fault. _It's all my fault, Bones._ "

Sober Bones would've insulted him then instantly responded with an encouraging speech that would make Jim feel better. Drunk Bones had to sort through his jumbled thoughts and try to come up with something that wouldn't damage his feelings or self-esteem even more. He clearly didn't succeed, as he simply replied with a slightly slurred "Jim…"

"I don't want to talk to you about this when you're drinking." Jim said sadly with tears in his eyes, grabbing the bottle of bourbon from him and keeping it out of his reach. "You have no filter when you're drunk. I'll just get a bandage and go away, I can deal with the pain. Just _please_ don't drink anymore, okay? I don't want to— I _can't_ — lose another friend."

Bones stared at him guiltily, his brown eyes swimming with conflicting emotions. "Jim, I'm sorry. I'll try to stop." Jim nodded stiffly and grabbed the bandages before turning to leave. "Jim." He turned back despite himself, and saw Bones looking upset and like he was in trouble, almost like a small child. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be." He said with a sad smile, leaving his drunk best friend alone in the medical bay.

The next morning Leonard McCoy woke in his office (as he couldn't stand being in his quarters) feeling both ill and incredibly guilty. After choking down a pill that would relieve the nausea in a half hour or so, he sat up and buried his pounding head in his hands.

He'd gotten drunk. He'd promised Jim years ago after the incident during their time at the Academy that he'd never get drunk again. Alcohol was his weakness, the thing that he'd always fallen back on, again and again. He'd done so well for years, and then he let himself fall back into the pit when he knew it was unlikely he'd escape with ease.

And then, when Jim had come to him, hand bleeding and his heart full of guilt, he hadn't been able to do or say anything without him making things worse. Jim hadn't even gotten treatment in the end, he'd simply left the room and went to tend to it himself. Not only was Leonard a terrible friend, he was a terrible doctor as well. What if someone had come in severely injured, and he was too drunk to operate? What if his drinking had cost the life of another crew member?

Angrily, Leonard walked over to the replicator on the counter. His was special, created by Scotty, but different in only one way, really. His was fitted with a button that, when pressed, would cause it to never replicate alcohol. It was a one-time thing— once it was pressed, he'd either need to deal with it or get a new one— but Leonard was sick and tired of being weak, sick and tired of being terrible at his job, being a friend, and being a father. Joanna was in a terrible state, she'd lost two of her best friends in one day and Chekov was basically shutting her out, so who was he to revel in his pity party when everyone else was worse off?

After pressing the button, he locked up his high-quality real Earth bourbon in a safe. He wouldn't open it until he knew he could handle having a drink again. Leonard McCoy was _done_ with ruining his life. It was bad enough already without him driving away the only good things left.

He sighed, and pulled on his blue shirt. It was time to find Jim and make things right. Jim was his best friend, and it was his job to help him in any way he could, not harm him further and drive him away. Lord knows the poor man had had enough of that in his life.

When he knocked on the door to the Captain's quarters, he heard grumbling. A moment later, Jim was there, blinking in the light. "Bones? What're you doing here so early?"

"I got rid of all my alcohol." He said stiffly. "And I pressed the button Scotty put in for emergencies. I'm gonna be dry, and stay dry, I can't afford otherwise."

At first, his friend's face was one of shock. Then, he slowly broke into a wide grin. "I'm proud of you, Bones. Come on in, and we can talk."

The first thing Leonard noticed was the garbage can by the door filled with sharp shards of the mirror that had once hung in his bathroom. Vaguely he recalled Jim mentioning he'd punched it so hard it had shattered. What had been going through his head to cause him to lash out so violently? Sure, such things had been common on their first mission, but Jim had mellowed a bit over the years. He didn't purposely cause himself minor injuries anymore as some sick form of punishment. It had taken years, but he'd stopped.

Or so he'd thought.

"I _thought_ you'd stopped hurting yourself." He said in an accusing tone.

Jim scowled. "I _thought_ you'd stopped drinking."

They both winced.

"Listen," Bones said with a sigh, "I'm not here to argue. I was a terrible friend yesterday, and I want to apologize and maybe… maybe help a little." He felt small and stupid, like a teenager again, dancing around and desperately trying— and failing— to keep his friends.

Jim's face softened. "I know you're sorry. I'd be able to tell if you weren't. How about we both talk, and try to help each other. I'm not the only one with issues, Bones."

"Of course not."

They sat down on the comfortable couch, instantly relaxing. Leonard noticed the dirtied bandage on his friend's hand and winced. "Let me fix that. It'll get infected if you're not careful." He pulled out his dermal regenerator that he'd remembered to put in his pocket and grabbed Jim's hand, gently tearing off the bandages. The cuts were certainly deep, and so positioned around his knuckles and fingers that he'd definitely hurt it breaking the mirror. "Damn it, Jim, you need to be more careful. Punch a wall or something, or better yet, a pillow, not a mirror that will fucking hurt you. If you punch a mirror again, I'll punch _you._ "

He didn't even think about the words as he said them, just let his mouth run as the cuts slowly healed. If only he hadn't been drunk yesterday, or he'd have been able to stop the scars from forming. When he looked up, he noticed Jim smiling at him. "The hell are you smiling at?" He said grumpily.

"I told you yesterday, when you lecture me it makes me feel better."

Now that he mentioned it, Leonard _did_ remember Jim saying something like that. It hadn't made much sense to him then, either. "Why?"

His smile fell slightly. "Because it reminds me that people give a damn whether I live or die. Part of me… part of me still isn't used to having friends." Jim paused, letting it sink in. "Why exactly can't you deal with everything that happened? Bad stuff's happened before, hell, when you realized Jo had been _abused_ you didn't relapse. Why is this so different?"

For a moment Leonard felt on the spot, like Jim was going to pull out the microscope and put him under its lens. He forced the feeling down and let his feelings free. "I don't really know. Part of it is that it just happened so fast. One second Sulu was alive, and fine, and the next he was on the ground, dead, bleeding on my carpet. And all I could do was just sit there like a useless ass as Chekov fell to pieces and Uhura lost it and Spock showed emotion and you fucking killed the bitch that did it… As everyone was falling apart, I just sat there. Me, whose job is to fix everything, to make things better… and I did _nothing._ "

"There was nothing you could've done." Jim argued. "Your job isn't to bring back the dead."

Leonard glared at him. "I brought _you_ back."

Jim shuddered. "I know. But that was a special case, and I… I don't really like thinking about that."

That was the one thing that Jim absolutely refused to talk about. No matter how hard they tried, he wouldn't tell them what it felt like when he was dead. He wouldn't say if it felt like being asleep, or if he could see everything, or if he finally met his father. All Leonard knew was that it was a very touchy subject, and one that he would not breach.

"I'm sorry." Bones said gently. Then his face darkened as the bad memories flowed back. "That first night, when I tried to sleep in there— I had such horrible nightmares, of Sulu coming back and blaming me for his death, of that damn assassin killing you, too, and being helpless as you pleaded for my help. I— I couldn't stand it, so I broke."

Jim looked at his friend with a sad sense of understanding. "I had nightmares of the same thing… Except after killing Sulu, she slit your throat. And you looked at me and with your dying breaths told me that it was all my fault."

"It's _not,_ Jim." Leonard said instinctively. "If I hadn't been an idiot and gotten captured, you wouldn't have come to rescue me, and Sulu'd still be alive."

Jim shook his head. "Bones, it _is_ my fault. If I hadn't… If I hadn't made such a stupid mistake then Avery wouldn't be out to kill me, and Tara and Sulu and everyone else would still be alive."

Slowly, the two of them realized what Jim had said. "Who- who's Avery?"

Jim's face had gone pale. After a moment, he looked down at the ground. "Marcus Avery. He's the one trying to kill me."

"How do you know?"

Jim fidgeted, twisting his hands and looking like he wanted to punch something again. "After I was captured by Kodos, I met Marcus in the prisons. We were near each other, and we talked, became friends. At some point I promised him that we'd both make it out alive, that I would rescue him when I was escaping."

Bones realized where the story was going. "Oh, Jim, you didn't."

"I left him there, Bones." Jim said, eyes welling with tears. "There was plenty of time, but I was too selfish, and I left him there… and as I ran away I heard him tell me I'd pay for breaking my promise. I never knew that he'd made it out… and now I'm going to pay for what I've done."

"Jim, you were a kid. You were in a horrible situation, and you did the best you could." Leonard said, trying not to sound like he was pleading. Jim was getting riled up, and bad things happened when he got riled up.

"Don't you see, Bones?" Jim said, voice much louder now. It was getting dangerously close to shouting. Leonard knew he was upset, and that was clouding his judgement, but he didn't like it when Jim shouted at him."I _didn't_ do the best I could! I _failed,_ just like _you_ failed, and now we're all FUCKED!" He was actually shouting now, and Bones winced. He could sense that Jim was going to lose control soon, and whenever that happened usually Bones himself was the subject of ridicule. Most of the time he just shrugged it off, but this time, with his well-being fragile, he didn't know if he'd be alright after the ordeal.

"You have NO RIGHT to try and make me be a good person, McCoy." Bones felt his face fall. Whenever Jim called him McCoy, he knew that he was in for a 'treat.' "YOU'RE a fucking FAILURE who killed their own FATHER and let your own DAUGHTER BE ABUSED FOR YEARS WITHOUT YOU REALIZING IT, so you can't fucking tell ME TO BE A GOOD PERSON! You're a fucking TERRIBLE person, and you're a USELESS ALCOHOLIC DICK OF A DOCTOR! If you want to JUDGE ME, then make sure you're not a FUCKING MESS YOURSELF, McCOY."

Bones felt his head fall, and tears burned in his eyes. At times like these he regretted ever befriending Jim. Jim _knew_ he was more fragile then he let on, but when his best friend got slightly angry he took it out on him, knowing full well it was hard for him to deal with it without hearing the person whose opinion he most cared about calling him a terrible person. Jim wasn't done yet, and Leonard resigned himself to the horrible things he was saying. They were all true, after all. Every single one. Who was he kidding?

"In fact, you're the fucking WORST person I know, McCoy. You want to know why?" No. He didn't. "Because you are an alcoholic weak-ass aviphobic failure of a father who can't do a single fucking thing right. You're a pathetic excuse for a human being, and you disgust me. Now get out of my sight."

McCoy stood, shaking. "Okay, Jim. Fine. I'm sorry that I'm a fucking failure, okay? I'm sorry." Tears were gleaming in his eyes, and he turned away and stumbled to the door. He needed a drink. He needed it more than he'd ever needed a drink in his life. He slowly walked down to his office where the safe containing his bourbon was. He'd been planning not to open it for a long time… but he needed a drink. He needed it. He was a terrible fucking failure of a person that had killed his own father despite knowing that there was still time and had let his baby girl be abused for years without his knowledge. He deserved to die, but he wasn't going to do it himself.

He needed a drink so, so bad.

Later that afternoon, Joanna McCoy went to go find her father. She had heard from Christine that he'd been having nightmares, and while she knew that talking to Jim was usually the best therapy for him, she also knew that Jim was in a bit of a state, bordering on emotionally compromised, and figured that talking to him would help.

She knew he'd be in his office, as he couldn't bear to be in his quarters currently. She'd expected him to be at his desk doing paperwork for once in his life to try and escape his demons. She hadn't expected to find the door locked and the shades drawn, making it impossible to see inside.

"He's been in there for hours." Christine said from behind her. "When he came in he was really upset. Then he locked himself in there and hasn't come out since. Thankfully its been a quiet day, or that would be a problem."

Jo frowned. "Has be responded to you or anything?"

"No. But that's not particularly uncommon, so I'm not too worried." Christine said in a calming voice. "If you really want to talk to him, we can use medical override before I go. Now that you're here I can go get some food. If someone comes in, comm me."

Jo nodded. "I'll knock first, but I know the code. It'll be fine. Go get some dinner."

Christine looked at her gratefully and exited the medical bay, leaving Joanna alone with her father. She knocked on the door. "Daddy? You ok in there?"

Silence, but there was an audible shuffling of PADDS and the clicking of- was that glass bottles? Plural?

"I'm gonna use the medical override if you don't open up." She warned.

More silence. A moment later, the door clicked unlocked. She opened it and saw her father, a mostly empty bottle of fine Earth bourbon in his hand. He grinned at her, eyes slightly unfocused. "Jo. How're ya doin'? Pretty bad, I guess, since you've got me s' a father." His voice was slurred, and his Southern accent much thicker than normal.

He was drunk, she'd realized. She had known that he'd been an alcoholic after he'd lost her and Jocelyn, but she'd never actually seen him drunk before. What had happened? He hadn't gotten drunk in years. "Dad how much have you had to drink?"

"I f'rget. O'ny a bottle… mebe two." He took a swig and grimaced. "I deserve it."

Jo, who'd been preparing to steal the bottle from him and declare he'd drunk enough, froze. "What? Why?"

"'M a terrible fuckin' person. Jim said so." He took another swig.

" _What?_ " She hissed. It was hard to believe that Jim, her father's best friend who always encouraged him because he knew how sensitive he was, had actually told her father he was a terrible person and driven him to drink. "Jim said that?"

"Yeh. He got mad. Jimmy's always mean when he's mad. But he's right, he's always right. Jimmy's an asshole, but he's 'n honest one. 'M a terrible fuckin' person. 'M pathetic. 'M an alcoholic weak-ass aviphobic failure of a father who can't do a single fuckin' thing right. Thas what Jim says."

Jo stared at him, shocked that Jim had allowed such poisonous words to escape his mouth. "He's wrong." She said firmly.

"Wha'?"

"He's wrong. You're a good person, and a great father." She insisted.

He shook his head mechanically. "I let Joce beat ya, Joey. I let 'er let Clay beat ya and I didn't notice the bruises. 'M a terrible father."

"No, Daddy, if I'd wanted you to know, you would've." Jo said firmly. "You're not a terrible father, _I'm_ a terrible daughter."

"Doesn't change anythin'." Her father said, shaking his head. "'M a terrible fuckin' person. Jim says so."

Jo stared at him. "Would you change your mind if Jim told you you weren't?"

"No." He said firmly. "He'd be lyin'. He's lyin' all the time. Alllll the time. When he's mad he's honest. 'M a terrible person, 'nd I deserve to die."

"What?" She said in a shocked voice. "You do _not_ deserve to die. I'm going to get Jim," she decided, "and he's gonna set you straight. Don't you dare open another bottle, Leonard McCoy, you understand?"

"Yes'm." He muttered, letting his head fall to his chest. He repeated the word over and over until Jo left the room. She noted that he was oddly coherent as a drunk. He was almost more brutally honest, like his boundaries had fallen down. This was both a good thing and a very, very bad thing.

She sped through the halls, anger toward Jim boiling in her heart. What the hell had he been thinking? Now her dad had potentially relapsed into alcoholism, which was _not_ a good thing on a Starship, and thinking that he deserved death, again, _not a good thing on a Starship._ When she found Jim she was going to—

She knocked on the door to his quarters. "Open up, Jim, what the hell?! You have some damn explaining to do!"

Jim opened the door, looking spectacularly pissed. " _What_ , Jo?! What did I do? I've been in here all fucking day destroying every goddamn thing I can get my hands on, what the hell did I do?"

"You tell me right now why my father has drunk _a whole bottle_ of bourbon and is convinced that he is a 'terrible fucking person' who _deserves to die_?!" She hissed quietly, her face inches from his.

Slowly, Jim's face drained of color. "Shit. I got mad, didn't I?"

"I'd say so. I was able to get that much out of him. He claims that you're an asshole when you're mad, but an honest one. He thinks his best friend, and thus everyone else, thinks he's a fucking piece of shit thanks to you, and now he's fallen into a pit that you _know_ he's been struggling to stay out of for years. And you _knew what you were doing,_ and you _liked it_." She was disgusted, absolutely furious, and though she knew that Jim was emotionally unstable, she had never thought he'd sink so low as to put down his best friend to make himself feel better.

Jim slumped on the doorframe, guilt on his face. "I don't know what I can do. He'll never trust me again."

"No." Jo agreed. "Not unless you wait until he's sober and find _any_ way to tell him that he is the amazing person you know he is despite his flaws, and help pull him out of this hole you dumped him back into."

Jim closed his eyes. "Okay." He opened them. "Can you-" He held up his hands, which were skinned and bruised and covered in what looked suspiciously like splinters.

They shocked Jo out of her anger. "Jesus. What did you—" she looked inside the room, past Jim, and saw that the room had been absolutely destroyed. "Fine." She pulled out her regenerator and began to heal the wounds. "But you better pull yourself together or I'll make Spock take over for you. At least he can keep himself together right now. Between you, Dad, and Pav, we're a mess." She sighed.

"How is Chekov?" Jim asked meekly, trying not to wince as Jo used some tweezers to yank out the splinters in his knuckles.

"He's doing better. He's stopped clamming up so much around me, but he just wants to talk to Hikaru, and he knows he can't, and it's just so hard for him." She sighed. "I mean, Hikaru was Pav's first best friend. He doesn't know how to cope, not with Tara gone too, and I'm trying to be strong, but it's just _so_ hard…"

"He's a good guy. He'll be fine if you take care of him." Jim assured her.

Jo snorted. "Like you take care of my dad?"

Jim fell silent.

She sighed. "Listen, I know that it's hard. If you ever need to talk, and you're worried you'll yell at Dad, come to me, okay? Maybe it's just McCoys in general that help you figure life's shit out, not just Bones." She shook her head and hugged him. "I forgive you. Just think about it, okay?"

And Joanna left, leaving her captain staring at the ground, trying to pull the pieces of himself together. He decided that he'd go to Bones tomorrow and make everything up to him.

The only problem was, the next day was when everything was doomed to end, one way or another.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **This is just a filler chapter before the last one. Yes, that's right, the LAST CHAPTER is next. There will also be an epilogue to tie up loose ends, but in general this story is coming to an end very, very soon.**

 **This chapter is mainly to show the fragility of the characters and give the problems Sulu and Tara's deaths have caused (mainly Sulu, of course). It's kinda awful, so please don't tell me that, but let me know what you think.**

 **In case you're wondering, I will continue to write at least one-shots for Star Trek, and if I have an idea for another full fic, I'll probably write that too. But I will NOT, I repeat, will NOT write a sequel. This one's ending is too neat for that, I think. You'll see.**

 **Heh heh.**

 **Trellya**


	22. Twenty-One: The End, The Beginning

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"James Tiberius Kirk, formerly known as JT… Oh, I'm sorry, you're a captain now, aren't you? Tell me, do you abandon _them_ on planets to die?" The voice was growling above him. Jim frowned, and opened his eyes. He wasn't on the Enterprise. That much was obvious. However, the interior of the ship surrounding him was general enough that it was difficult for him to tell exactly what type of ship he was on.

A moment later he realized exactly _who_ the voice of the man would belong to, and he looked up frantically. There was a very thin man, not particularly tall, with harsh black eyes and a crazed mop of dark brown hair. His bones seemed to jut painfully out of his skin, and there were faint scars running down his arms. "I would tell you it's nice to see you after so many years, JT, but right now all I want to do is rip your head from your body, so that might not be too accurate on my own part." Marcus Adams said as casually as possible, not able to diguise the ice in his voice.

"Don't call me that." Jim said, his voice hoarse.

Adams snorted. "What? JT? Why not?"

"I'm not _him_ anymore. I _can't_ be him anymore." Jim said, trying to explain to the man before him how terribly sorry and ashamed he was. "The things he did to you were unforgivable, and I _can't_ let myself be JT ever again."

The thin man laughed. "You expect me to believe that you're trying to make yourself a better person, when just yesterday you told your best friend he didn't even deserve to be alive? Oh, that's rich!" He laughed harder, and his cheekbones seemed so thin they could cut like a knife.

Jim could say nothing as the shame of what he'd said to poor Bones crashed down on him again. He'd been planning to apologize today, to start healing the damage his words had caused. Now, he'd never get the chance. He was going to die here, and Bones would hate his former best friend as well as himself for the rest of his life.

"Get up." Marcus Adams said harshly, stopping his laughter so quickly it was unnerving. Jim scrambled to his feet. "I want you dead. You know that by now. But, unlike yourself, I have some small amount of honor. A duel to the death. What do you say?" His eyes gleamed madly in the bright lights of the ship.

"I don't want to kill you." Jim said, horrified.

He laughed. "Once, you did. Besides, if you don't, I'll kill your friends until you agree."

"What?" Jim asked, his face growing pale.

Marcus snapped his fingers, and a video feed appeared on the large screen in front of them. Bones, Spock, Joanna, Chekov, Uhura, Scotty, Christine, and even poor Rhine— the man had really had enough trouble for a lifetime in the past few months— were tied up and in some sort of hold. They all stared at the camera in fear, with one notable exception. Bones stared at the ground, looking like his world had been broken to pieces. Jim felt his blood run cold. _Jesus._ Wasn't it bad enough that he was going to lose his life? Why did his friends have to die to?

As if the thin man had read his mind, he spoke. "Incentive, _dear_ JT. If you fight me, and you lose, they'll be released back to the Enterprise. You fight me and win, which I sincerely doubt, then those guards will let you take them back to your ship and you can fly away and pretend to be a good person again. If you _won't_ fight me, then I will kill every one of your friends, and I'll fight you anyway. Understood?" His voice was dark, full of madness.

Jim didn't want to kill him. But this guy was responsible for the deaths of several of his crew, including one of the greatest men he'd ever known. There was no question, really. "Fine." He spat.

Adams' face brightened. "Wonderful! How do you wish to fight— phasers, knives, ooh, or I have some of those old 'guns' from twenty-first century Earth!"

"I— uh—" He couldn't believe it. The man was treating this ordeal as if it were some sort of spar between friends, not a fight to the death.

Adams noticed his hesitance and grinned even more widely. "Can't decide? I'll choose then. Those old guns should work just fine." He walked over to some sort of panel, which lifted to reveal a wide variety of antique guns. He grabbed two handguns and tossed Jim a couple as well. After a moment's pause, he grabbed a pair of knives. "I was thinking we'd start with knives. Close quarter combat is always more exciting." He said, a sick grin still on his face.

Jim took the knife and felt a definite burst of terror in his stomach. He hadn't fought like this in years. He hadn't used guns since he was a boy back in Iowa, and he was most certainly going to die.

Joanna McCoy glanced around at her fellow captives. They'd apparently been beamed over in their sleep and then hurriedly tied up and chained together. The guards had at some point explained that they were leverage to convince Jim to engage in a fight to the death with the man who'd been trying to assassinate him.

Jo wasn't sure how she would have reacted if Pavel hadn't been chained next to her. Somehow, the risk had put his pieces together, and he was looking determined and thoroughly ready to take the stupid guards down.

Realizing quickly that the two were complete morons, Jo and Pav started whispering to each other in Russian, trying to formulate a plan to escape and help Jim before it was too late.

 **"I say we take out fatty over there first. He looks to be the stronger of the two, and that way the weak one won't put up too much trouble."** Chekov said in a calculating voice, staring at 'Fatty' with narrowed eyes.

Jo shook her head minutely. **"But the other one, Scarecrow, has the keys to our… what's the word?"** She said helplessly, trying to think of the word for 'handcuff.' Pavel smirked and whispered it to her. **"Yes, handcuffs. We'll want to take** ** _him_** **out in order to free as many as possible to get them to help."**

 **"We can just steal them off him first. Then we can unlock ourselves and pretend we're still bound and then overwhelm them all at once."** Pavel said, eyes gleaming at the thought.

Jo grinned slowly. **"Sounds perfect, Pav."** She spoke slightly too loud, loud enough for the guards, who were playing some form of poker, to look up.

"Oi!" Snarled the one with the keys. He stood up and marched over to where the two of them were sitting. "What're you talking about?"

The others were staring at them in fear, except for her father who continued to stare at the ground. A hangover paired with extreme self-hatred had made him a shell of who he had been. Jo tried not to smirk. Her plan had worked. They'd noticed that Fatty was too lazy to get out of his chair except for real issues, so Scarecrow would be the one to come over if a captive was talking.

 **"Nothing."** She said in Russian, purposly using the other language in order to stall for time. Pavel would need to be slow in order to successfully steal the keys.

Scarecrow's face twisted with anger. "The hell did you say to me? Did you just insult me, bitch?"

Jo scowled. She had been planning to play nice, but clearly that wouldn't work. **"No. Although I'm insulting you now, you tiny-brained prick."** Pretty mild for an insult, but the venom in her voice made her intentions clear.

Scarecrow leaned in until his face was inches from hers. "You insult me again, and I will beat you until your face is unrecognisable. And then I will bash your head in. Understand me?"

Jo gave him a hard glare. When she spoke, it was in English. She'd just felt the clicking of her handcuffs unlocking and had passed on the keys to Uhura, who was on her other side. "Of course I understand you, I'm not a putty-brained idiot with a whore for a mother."

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then the fist slammed into her face. This was the moment Pavel had been waiting for. He leapt to his feet, throwing off his chains and handcuffs, and punched the man back. Scarecrow crashed to the ground, moaning in pain.

Fatty stood at his table, and began to run over to where the fight was happening, but then Scotty jumped in front of him and punched him in the gut. Jo, her vision swimming slightly from the blow, got to her feet and began to help Monty, trying not to wince as she helped beat the man unconscious. Even though she was a talented fighter, she didn't like hurting people.

"A'ight, what're we gonna do now?" Scotty asked, looking around the room at the pile of chains and the two unconscious guards. He paused, looking as though an idea had come to him. Jo looked at him warily. Ideas from Montgomery Scott were often dangerous. "We should tie 'em up with them chains." He suggested with a smile.

The idea being danger free, Jo and the others relaxed, and proceeded to chain the two guards together and then to the table in the corner which was welded to the ground to avoid it being knocked about during flight in rougher territory.

"Now what?" Christine asked darkly, straightening her blue dress that she'd apparently slept in and making sure it wasn't overly dusty. "We have no idea where Jim and the other guy could be, or how large this ship is. We'd be looking for him for ages, and we don't know how much time we have."

"Well," Scotty said in what a young Jo had called his 'Lady Improvement Voice' because it usually came about when an improvemnt for the Enterprise was suggested. "Ah could use tha' camera 'n make it project the image o' what it's projectin' _to_ to _us_."

Spock cleared his throat. "How long would that take, Mr. Scott?"

"Oh, on'y a few seconds. Child's play, first did it when ah was four. Ah, there we are!" He said cheerfully, and suddenly an image was projected on the smooth white wall. It was what appeared to be the large and spacious bridge of an alien craft, and two men were fighting with what seemed to be knives. One was blonde and well-built, wearing a golden Command shirt. The other was a thin, small man with dark hair and dark clothes that moved like he was insane. Both men were covered in cuts, probably from glancing blows, but on Jim it looked far worse, as the blood turned his shirt a shocking scarlet color.

"Zhat ees all fine end dendy, Meester Scott, but vhere _ees_ zhe breedge?" Pavel pointed out, watching the video feed with a horrified expression.

Scotty snorted. "Ask the ship."

There was a pause. "Computer, where is the bridge located?" Spock finally said calmly, trying to sound as though he belonged.

Silence. "The bridge is located on deck 1A. I will give you directions."

Rhine, who until then had been silent, grinned. "Well, that was easy."

"Don't speak so soon," Christine said, watching as the thin man smacked Jim across the face and sent him reeling to the floor, where he hauled himself up, looking exhauseted and in pain. "I don't know how much longer he can last before the blood loss starts getting to him."

Jim was in the fight of his life, the fight _for_ his life. Sure, he'd had epic battles for his life before, and he'd been convinced he'd been doomed before, but this was so personal and had such high stakes that he was having difficulties keeping his mind focused on defending himself.

After another slice to his arm by Adams' knife, he realized that if he only used offense he'd have no chance. He'd need to start on the offensive. Lashing out, Jim grazed the man's chest, slicing open his shirt and into his skin and causing the black fabric to become sticky with blood. Marcus grinned, not looking as though he were in pain at all. "Good, good! Finally fighting back, are we?"

The fight continued. Both men were breathing heavily, their shirts cut to ribbons and their bodies and hands covered in shockingly scarlet blood. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim noticed that there seemed to be a large commotion where his friends were being held. Were they escaping? He blocked a lunge by Adams and shook his head. If they were, they'd find him and help him end this for good. It was a good thing too, since Jim suspected that he'd be dodging bullets soon.

Another quick glance, and Jim realized that they had left the room, leaving the two guards chained and unconscious. Soon. Only a while longer, and then they'd come. He only had to last a few minutes longer.

 _Bang._ Jim hadn't even seen his opponent raise the gun. Luckily, he missed, but it was enough to jolt him back to the present. If he didn't focus, he'd be killed.

Kirk pulled out one of his two guns and tried to remember how to work the damn thing. He avoided the next shot by Adams as he fumbled with the gun. He raised the gun, aimed it with careful precision, and— _bang._ Marcus Adams let out a shriek as the bullet slammed into his right shoulder. It hung limply by his side, and he was forced to switch to his left hand. Hopefully he'd be less accurate.

 _Bang._ Jim cried out as the bullet hit the fleshy part of his left arm. The bastard was ambidextrous. Of course he was. Jim fired off another two shots with his thankfully intact right arm, which the man quickly dodged. His blood was pounding in his ears, and he could feel his exhaustion. _Hurry up._ He pleaded his friends. _I don't know how much longer I can last._

The ship's computer was apparently quite friendly and extremely helpful. She'd led them through the maze-like corridors of the alien ship, and Jo could sense they were drawing close. Suddenly, a gunshot rang through the air. Not long after, another, and then another, and a howl of pain from an unfamiliar man. Then, another shot, and this time Jim was the one who cried out. Jo felt her heart clench with fear. Would he be dead when they reached him?

"Jim." Said a hoarse voice. Everyone turned in surprise and saw that she was looking at her father, who hadn't said a word since they'd woken up in chains. He looked as though he'd been woken up out of a dream. Jo saw that he'd snapped out of his daze of self-pity that he'd been trapped in, and she felt glad to have her father back. Hopefully.

"We gotta hurry." Urged Scotty. "The computer says it's just over here."

One left, a right, and two more lefts later, more shots and cries from both parties being heard along the way, and they were standing in surprisingly large bridge space that was oddly perfect for a duel. On their left was the thin man wearing black. His right arm was hanging at his side, and he was limping heavily with his left leg. On their right was Jim. He appeared to have a bullet in his left arm, judging from the blood, and he was clutching his right side with that same arm. His right was wielding a handgun, but it was shaking slightly from the pain and bloodloss. Both men were soaked in blood.

"None of us have weapons." Uhura said, her eyes wide as she watched the duel. "What the hell are we supposed to do?"

Rhine coughed, and pulled out a large knife from his pants. "I sleep with one on me. Old habit, never really shook it."

"Is anyone any good at throwing knives?" Christine asked.

Scotty, Jo, Spock, Uhura, and Rhine all shook their heads. Pavel muttered something about how Hikaru would have been able to. To Jo's surprise, her father raised his hand. "It's been a while, but back in Georgia I won contests."

"How did I not know this?!" Jo hissed at him.

He shrugged. "Never came up."

Shrugging, Rhine handed her father the knife. He held it in his hands like it was an old friend, and she could tell that he'd handled knives often in the past. Maybe he really was a talented knife thrower. Jo turned away— she couldn't stand to watch and see him miss— as he aimed at the thin man and threw. At the same time, two almost simultaneous gunshots went off.

She turned around, and saw that her father's knife had hit directly above the man's heart. She also noticed the small hole in the man's forehead where Jim's bullet had hit. Slowly, the enemy fell to the ground. Jo turned to gaze at Jim next. A new bloodstain was forming in his stomach, where the thin man's bullet had hit him. Even as Jo watched, Jim sank to the ground too.

However, he didn't collapse as the other man did. He fell to his knees and sat there, staring at her father with a strange glint in his eyes. Before Joanna could make a sound, her father was running to him, looking like all his worst nightmares were coming true again.

Jim Kirk stared as the knife slammed into Adams' chest an instant before his bullet hit the man in the head. He stared at Bones, the knife thrower, in shock. He had been willing to kill a man to save him, even after all he'd said? Then he felt the sharp, weakening pain in his stomach, and he felt himself fall to his knees.

Suddenly, Bones was there. "Jim. Jim, oh, Jesus." He muttered, and vaguely Jim found it odd that he hadn't said a single swear word yet. This usually only happened when he was really seriously injured. Jim knew he should be worried about that, but he was _so tired…_

"It's okay, Jim, we're gettin' outta here soon, you'll be okay." Bones said, sounding as though he were about to cry. Why? He'd been horrible, he was always horrible. He was a terrible friend, didn't Bones know that?

"B-bones… why did—" He stopped as a cough ripped through his body and something— he suspected it was blood— splashed onto his lips.

Bones was calling over Joanna, who was pulling out a regenerator. Of course, they both knew that what Jim really needed was blood, and they didn't have any here. All they had was pain relievers. Jim, of course, was feeling terrible pain on what seemed to be every inch of him, but he didn't mind, really. It told him he was still alive.

"Jim, ya gotta stay awake. The blood loss—"

"But I'm so tired, Bones…" Jim whispered, his eyes struggling to remain open. "Can't I go to sleep?"

Bones shouted something to Scotty about 'dammit, get us out of here,' and then Joanna was running the regenerator over his knife wounds. Bones asked if she had any blood, but she shook her head. Bones turned to Jim next. "Ya can't fall asleep, Jimmy. If ya fall asleep, ya won't wake up."

Vaguely Jim registered that Bones' accent got thicker when he was upset. "I'll try Bones… I d-don't know if I c-can do it." He stumbled over the words. They were coming out all jumbled and strange. He really wanted to sleep, but Bones wouldn't let him. Why? Shouldn't he let him fall asleep? Then Jim wouldn't hurt him anymore. "Why'd you forg-give me?"

Bones looked at him with a deep sadness. "You were only tellin' the truth, Jim. 'Sides, I… I can't stand seein' ya hurtin'. Not when I can do somethin' about it."

Something wasn't settling right with Jim, and it woke him up a bit more. "It wasn't the truth… I was angry-y. So I tried to put you d-down. M-make me be-etter. You're the… best per-person I know, Bones." He said, gasping in the middle of the words as he coughed up more blood. Not as much. Was that good or bad? He didn't know.

Some tension in Bones' face seemed to melt away. "Oh, Jimmy… Ya must know some awful people if _I'm_ the best." He paused. "You're the best person I know, too."

Now _that_ made Jim feel more awake. "Wh-what? But I—"

"Yea, I know, and I don't give a damn." Bones said fiercely.

Jim suddenly realized they'd been beamed aboard the Enterprise and he hadn't even realized. Why? Had Bones been distracting him? He was good at that, he'd done it often enough that usually he expected it. He must be in really bad shape to not even realize that they had beamed aboard and were currently entering the hospital.

Faced with the sudden fear that he might die for the second time, he stared at Bones with as much intensity as he could muster. "Bones, am I gonna die?"

"No." Bones said firmly, and Jim looked down and realized that they had put in an IV, as well as the blood for the transfusion. Once again, he hadn't noticed. "You're gonna be okay, now, Jim. You can sleep. I promise you'll wake up."

Bones never lied to him about things like that. Slowly, Jim let himself drift away into the black, hoping that he would indeed wake up.

Pavel Chekov was feeling much better after being held captive, which was quite odd. Then again, seeing the captain get shot had knocked Doctor McCoy out of his stupor of self-hatred, so maybe it wasn't that far-fetched. The danger, the necessity to form a plan and save the captain, it was familiar, something to cling to and keep himself together as everything crashed around his ears.

And then there was Joanna. Poor Jo, who hadn't been allowed to grieve, who'd been forced to hold together her boyfriend and her surrogate uncle and her father, and hadn't been able to succeed with any of them, really. She couldn't handle them as well as herself, so she took herself out of the equation.

After Jim had been put under to get more blood and get the various bullets out of his body, Pavel had realized that Jo looked like she really needed to cry. Honestly, Pavel kind of wanted to punch something and think about how Hikaru would have been a great help and maybe they would have made it to Jim before that last shot, but at that moment he realized exactly what she'd had to do for the past few days, and he shoved his own worries away and held her as she cried for her dead friends and for everything that had happened.

After that both of them were in a much better state. Both supported the other and helped when they were having a bad day. Pavel knew that this was the way it should be, and he was glad.

A couple days later, when Jim had started sneaking out of the medical bay and Doctor McCoy had given up on keeping him in all day, the spirits of the crew had begun to raise exponentially. To celebrate the captain's return to full health and to give everyone something to look forward to in order to raise morale, Rhine held a massive party where he allowed those over twenty-one to have more drinks than usual, and even those under the legal age to have a drink or two.

At some point Scotty pulled over his illegal still that he kept hidden in Engineering and hid god-knows-where during inspection. That _really_ got the party going. In the morning, everyone had horrible hangovers, except her father, who hadn't had a single drink. Not one person had pushed him to, knowing that he'd eventually cave and get himself in another mess.

So, being practically the only person on board not sick, he ended up making a ship-wide announcement ordering everyone to stay in bed and he'd make rounds and give everyone some of the ship's cure for minor hangovers. It only weakened major ones, but it was certainly better than nothing.

Jo and Pavel hadn't gotten terribly drunk, just enough to cheer them both up and make them forget for a moment that their friends were dead.

Of course the ship felt Hikaru Sulu's death harshly. Thankfully they hadn't needed any impossible evasive manouvers, things that Sulu had been famous for, but they knew that once they reached uncharted territory there was no telling what would happen.

That was why when Jim announced during their ship leave on the last outpost before uncharted territory that Hikaru's replacement would join them the next day, Pavel was more than a little apprehensive.

But as soon as Pavel laid eyes on her, he knew that she would be the perfect replacement. Why? Well, who better to replace Sulu than Sulu? Or rather, Hikaru with Kaiyo, the elder Sulu's baby sister.

Chekov had met her in his early Academy days. She had been his age— fourteen— and he'd noticed immediately how greatly she idolized her brother. He'd been her world, and he could tell she'd his death very harshly. "Everyone, this is Kaiyo Sulu, our new head pilot. Before you ask, yes, she is indeed Hikaru Sulu's younger sister. No, I didn't settle for her. I had to beg to get her captain to give her up." Jim announced.

Kaiyo and Pavel met eyes and smiled sadly at each other. It seemed that a Sulu would always have a place on the Enterprise. At that thought, he felt his heart heal a bit more, and he knew that everything would turn out okay.

 **Hey, Author here!**

 **After this there's the Epilogue. It's a mish-mash of scenes, mainly concerning Jo and Pav's relationship, that take place after the end of the bulk of the story. Or at least, that's what I'm planning. I haven't written it yet.**

 **Anyway, I'm hoping that will give you a more satisfactory ending, since this isn't really. Although, I do like the idea of Sulu's sister replacing him, so there's still a Sulu on board the Enterprise. So poetic :).**

 **I love you all.**

 **Trellya Sigma**


	23. Epilogue: Bayushki Bayu

EPILOGUE

Pavel Chekov and Joanna McCoy were celebrating their second anniversary of their relationship. It had only gotten more serious as time had passed, and people were beginning to ask when they were getting married. They'd talked about marraige, but being in Starfleet on a dangerous mission was not an ideal place for marraige, or children.

"But, if we get married, we can share a room." Jo would point out every time. "I mean, we're almost always in one room or the other. It would make sense to share a room."

Pav's response was always the same. "Ve're not geetting married _just_ because you vant to share a room, Jo. Zhere are other reasons, too." Despite these discussions, both knew that they were ready to take that next step. Now, Jo was just waiting for him to propose.

They were on a planetoid that appeared to be nothing more than a vacation spot for a few species from surrounding planets. The restaurant was well-maintained and the food was excellent. Some live musicians were singing in some alien language as they played strange instruments almost like guitars.

Pavel was getting nervous now. The ring box in his pocket felt like it was made of lead, and he almost felt like chickening out. But no. He'd talked to the waiter beforehand through the special translator Uhura had given them, and he was going to bring over a fine alien champagne and then Pav would pull out the ring.

That was only minutes away.

Just as he was thinking that, the waiter came over and uncorked the bottle before handing it to them. He winked and backed away, the blue tentacles on his face wriggling slightly. Pavel watched the tentacles, barely containing a shudder. He didn't like tentacles very much.

"Shall we?" Jo said, a twinkle in her eye. He poured her glass, and she snatched it from his hand and poured his. He stuck out his tongue at her. She stuck her tongue out back. They both laughed, then took a sip of the champagne.

"Zhis ees amazing." He said, closing his eyes as the flavor washed over his tongue.

Jo nodded. "Best I've ever had."

Pavel paused, and looked up. "Ven haf you ewer had champagne? You turned tventy-one on board!"

Jo paused and fiddled with her glass. "Graduation from high school. Someone brought a couple bottles and snuck around giving people some behind the teachers' backs. No one would give it to me since I was so young, until I stole one. It was awful."

"Zhat ees eet?" He paused. **"Not much experience, then."** He teased in Russian so none of the Starfleet officers dining around them could understand. Unless Uhura was hiding somewhere, of course. She'd recently mastered the language, which meant they had to be a little more careful with what they said when she was around. They'd gotten in trouble more than once.

 **"Oh, and you do?"** She challenged.

Pavel wrinkled his nose. "Ees not my fault Hikaru ees a steekler. Been drinking wodka my whole life, but one eensy glass of champagne? _Nyet, nyet!_ You could _die._ " He said in a complaining sarcastic voice. "Not until Spock end Nyota's anniwersary party, vhen I vas tventy-two."

Jo laughed, and looked at him with the piercing gaze that he loved so much. They continued on the converstation of under-age drinking and how they had such a flagrant disregard for the rules until their glasses were empty several times over. They were going to go soon, he could tell. He had to do it now.

Jo noticed how he stiffened and paled. "Pav? You alright? You're not going anaphylactic, are you?" She was going into nurse mode, as Jim had taken to calling it.

Pavel shook his head. "I em fine. Ees all good." He fumbled with the box in his pocket, and, hardening his resolve, pulled it out, snapping it open. "I— um— vould you— **fuck** — vould you marry me?"

Jo's brown eyes looked soft, and they were welling with tears. "You stupid bastard. I thought you'd never ask." And then she leaned forward and kissed him soundly on the lips.

The resteraunt had gone silent, and then, to their embarrassment, all the crew that was there began clapping. In the back, they realized that Jim and Doctor McCoy were there, Jim looking like he was crying, Bones looking incredibly proud. Pavel's face split into a wide grin, and he picked up his girlfriend— no, his _fiancé_ — and shouted happily. Then they fell into another tender kiss, and a loud "awwww" echoed through the restaraunt.

"Bones, soon you'll be a grandpa!" Jim said loudly. Everyone laughed.

Joanna Grace McCoy, fiancé to Pavel Andreivich Chekov, was staring at a mirror, trying to calm her nerves. She was dressed in a beautiful white gown, and a veil was hanging over her face. She looked the perfect part of the bride-to-be, yet she felt terrified.

It wasn't that she was having doubts, she knew that she wanted to marry Pavel with all her heart and soul, but a doubt in herself. What if she wasn't good enough? What if she failed him? What if she did something stupid and got him hurt or killed?

There was a hand on her shoulder. She'd been staring at the mirror, but she still hadn't noticed the small, petite figure approaching. "Are you ready?" Kaiyo Sulu asked, her face so incerdibly like her brother's. Kaiyo had inexplicably helped fill the hole in her and Pavel's hearts. She had naturally filled the gap where Tara and Hikaru had been, and yet she was not replacing them. No one could ever replace them. She was simply their new best friend, and with her Jo felt happy.

"No. I'm terrified, Kai! What if I mess up?" Jo said, eyes stingng with tears.

Kai smiled. "I'm sure that Pavel will forgive you for stumbling over your vows. I mean, he can't judge you, look at that proposal! Dropping the f-bomb in the middle was real classy, let me tell—"

"No, I don't care about that." Jo said, turning to stare at her friend. "What if I'm a bad wife? A bad mother? I don't want to get my family killed."

Kaiyo's smirk faded, and she stared at Joanna with a serious face. "Joanna Grace, you are one of the strongest, most caring women I have ever met. I have every faith that you will do everything in your power to keep them safe. Do you?"

Jo closed her eyes, forcing her fears away. Kaiyo was right. She'd do _anything_ in her power to keep Pav and her father and her future children safe. "Okay. Let's do this."

"Your dad's this way." Kai said, gently steering her toward the door. "Don't worry. You look beautiful. Pav's going to bawl."

It turned out that Pav did, indeed, bawl as he laid eyes on her in her gown. She teased him about it relentlessly throughout their marraige, and he never got tired of replying that he couldn't help it, she looked like the stars themselves had blessed her with their cloth of light. Jo never got tired of that reply, either.

Anyway, about three steps after he started crying, Jo tripped on her long train and almost fell over. Thankfully her father caught her, but that didn't stop the soft giggles from filling the room. They both cried during their vows, and their kiss, they agreed, was the best they'd ever shared.

During the reception, Jim, who had weasled himself into being the best man, gave a long speech about how he'd always known this would happen, and then went on and on about embarrassing stories, warning signs of their affection, etc. Eventually, Bones got up and threatened to sew his mouth shut "the old fashioned way" if he didn't quit soon. Jim wisely obeyed that order, but not until he'd made a wisecrack about future children, to which Jo replied that they were waiting until the end of the mission.

Approximately two months after the wedding, Jo discovered she was pregnant. Honestly she was just relieved she didn't have some horrible stomach illness. The morning sickness had been enough to make Pavel send her for some sort of 'stomach exam thing.' He didn't care what, he said, as long as it 'got some damn answers.'

Christine chose to administer a pregnancy test.

Jo told him immediately, both thrilled and terrified. "I mean, I know we planned to wait until we got back on Earth, but we're already half-way through the mission, it won't be awful, right?"

Pavel beamed at her. "Eet vill be amazing. Our child vill be zhe smarted zhere ees."

"Actually, that's a distinct possibility." Jo said, a twinkle in her eye.

"Indeed." He said, and he hugged her again.

Telling Leonard was a bit harder.

"You're— You're—"

"Yes, Daddy." Jo said tiredly.

He blinked. "But I thought you said you were—"

"These things happen, Daddy, you know that." Jo sighed, pinching her nose in exasperation.

A pause. "And you still want to—"

" _Yes,_ I want to stay on the Enterprise!" Jo hissed. "There's still two and a half _years_ left, Daddy! If I leave now, I probably won't ever get this chance again."

Her father sighed, and slowly, very slowly, he smiled. "Well, I did just turn fifty. I suppose that can be old enough to have a grandbaby."

Jo broke into a grin and hugged him tightly. "I love you."

"I know, sweetheart. I know." He said as he stroked her hair. "I'm going to be your doctor, of course."

"Of course."

"Good, because I wasn't about to let that new doctor, M'Benga's kid, do anything. He's still got a lot to learn."

Jo simply giggled.

"Are you ready?" Leonard McCoy asked, smiling at his daughter and her husband.

Joanna looked at Pavel, and nodded. "Yes."

"Alright," He said, trying not to sound like he was just as excited as they were. "Let's see your baby, shall we?"

A minute later, and a grey image appeared. It was small, and not yet large enough to determine the gender, but all three immediately knew that— **"He's beautiful."** Pavel breathed, the beginnings of tears glistening in his eyes. **"Oh, Jo, look at our son."**

"We don't know if he's a boy yet." Jo reminded him. "He could just as easily be a she."

Bones chuckled at her words. Although he hadn't understood Chekov's words, he could guess. Before he could say anything, Chekov shook his head. "I am certain he is a boy."

Jo paused, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Alright then. A wager. We don't learn the gender until birth. If it's a girl, I choose first name, you choose middle. If it's a boy, you get to choose first name and _I_ choose middle. Deal?" She stuck out her hand and stared him directly in the eyes, determination gleaming deep within.

Pavel paused, narrowed his eyes, and nodded. "You're on." He said, and they shook on it.

Leonard shook his head. This was going to end badly.

 **"I'm just saying, maybe we should come up with multiple options for names. Besides, this competition is a bit silly, isn't it?"** Jo said in a pleading tone. She was five months pregnant and starting to show, but Pavel still thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. If anything, he thought she was even more so.

However, at the moment Pavel was narrowing his eyes at her. **"Of course it's silly, but it was** ** _your_** **idea. If you don't want to risk me picking a bad name, God forbid, then you should have thought of that** ** _before_** **you had us shake on it. No going back now."**

 **"Come on, Pav, let's call it quits."** She said. **"This rivalry is stupid."**

 **"You're right, it is,"** he said, **"you should just accept we're having a son and then we can figure out names."**

Jo scowled. " _You_ should remember that there's still a chance that we're having a girl!" She spoke in English in her outburst, and sighed. "Can we at least exchange name ideas?"

Pavel sighed and drew close to his wife. "You know zhat eef eet ees a girl I von't love her any less zhan a son? I just feel eet ees a boy, deep down, I know this."

"I know." She leaned her head against his chest. "I was thinking Casey for a girl."

He smiled. "I like eet. I vas zhinking Theresa for zhe middle name. To honor Tara, you know?"

"Casey Theresa Chekov." She said. "Rolls of the tongue, doesn't it?"

"Indeed." He paused. "I vas zhinking Nikolay. For a boy, I mean."

Jo looked up at him. "If you're worried I won't like the Russian name, you've forgotten I married a Russian man and that I find Russian sexy." He smiled broadly at that. "And you know, it's kind of funny you chose Tara's name for your middle name… because I hose Hikaru for my middle name."

"Nikolay Hikaru Chekov." He said, tasting it on his tongue. "Now we vait end see which one ve use."

Jo laughed and put her hand on her stomach. Pavel let his follow. "Yes. Now we wait."

"Dad, oh my god, I can still walk." Jo complained as her father rushed over to help when she walked in the room. "Besides, I still have a month to go."

Leonard felt a stab of hurt, but shoved it aside. "It's not my fault you're clumsy when you're pregnant."

Jo glared at him, and the poison in her gaze was enough to make him quail. "I. Will. Be. Fine."

"Yes, yes you will." He agreed, stepping away.

"I wanted to talk to you about maternity leave." Christine broke in, walking over with a PADD in her hands. "Have you considered your options yet?"

Jo sighed heavily and sat down on a nearby chair. "I was thinking eight months, give or take. Eventually Pav and I will take care of them when we're not on shift, so we'd need to make sure one of us is off duty all the time, or at the very least Dad or Uhura or Kai."

"Not Jim?" Christine said, writing her words down on the PADD so she could arrange the leave later.

She snorted. "Are you kidding?"

Christine paused, and looked up. "He'd probably kill them."

"He probably would. Jim is _not_ allowed near my child without supervision until they are, like, twenty-five." Jo said firmly. Chris smirked. "Well, that _might_ be an exaggeration, but you get the point."

"I'd do the same if I were you. Have you thought about godparents yet?" She said.

Jo hesitated. "A lot, actually. It's hard because our first choices were Tara and Hikaru… and then we both remembered that they were gone. We've thought about it a lot, and… i think we're going with Nyota and Spock."

Christine's eyes widened. She hadn't expected that. "Really? You're sure?"

"Yeah. Spock and Nyota would be great parents, even if they'll never have kids themselves. And that way if something happened, they'd still be in an atmosphere of a couple who loves each other. That's why we didn't choose Kai." She added at the end. "She doesn't have anyone yet. And unless she happens to get married in the next month…"

"No, I understand." Chris reassured her. "Some of the nurses call those two the Enterprise's 'power couple.' The others say that that's you and Chekov."

Jo didn't reply, she simply laughed. "If they insist. Things like that seem a bit silly to me." She paused. "I should go. Pav and I have an appointment with Monty."

Christine paused in her notes and looked up, wondering if she'd heard correctly. "What?"

"Monty. He's making us a crib since we can't buy one from Earth or anything, and we want to make sure that it's not rocket-powered or something." She explained, getting to her feet slowly. "He's very excited about it."

Chapel rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he is."

Jo chuckled to herself. "Knowing him, it'll look like the Enterprise."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Christine said, laughing alongside the young woman she considered to be the daughter she'd never had.

Jo walked to the door. "Tell Dad he can stop pouting in his office and do his job, okay?"

Not a moment later, she received her reply. "I was _not_ pouting!"

Pavel Chekov was sitting at his post, Kaiyo Sulu beside him, her dark hair pulled into a pony tail. They'd just completed an adventure on some planet infested with man-eating plants the size of houses. Or rather, Jim, Bones, Scotty, and Spock had. He hadn't been allowed to go down. "We can't risk something happening to you with Jo so near her due date." Jim had said. That was all fine and dandy, but he was starting to go stir crazy and he would have liked a break on-planet. Not that he wanted to fight sentient house-sized man-eating plants.

"Chekov, get your ass down to medical _now._ " Said Leonard McCoy, his voice crackling slightly.

"Ees she—"

"Yes, genius, now get down before she _kills_ me!" The older man shrieked. He could hear Jo shouting at them to 'get Pav down here' in the background.

"Coming." He leapt to his feet and turned to the captain. "Sor—"

Jim shook his head. "Go. We'll get someone to cover the rest of your shift."

And then Pavel was sprinting through the halls, happiness and fear bubbling inside him. What if something went wrong, and Jo- or the baby- died? He forced himself to forget that notion. Modern medicine worked wonders. They'd be fine.

"PAVEL CHEKOV, GET YOUR ASS NEXT TO ME _NOW_!" Jo screamed as soon as he entered the door.

He immediately obeyed and turned to Leonard. "I came as fest as I could. I em out of breath." He pointed out, still panting.

Jo's reply was an impressive string of curse words. Pavel had a feeling his hand would be broken by the end. Jo had a painfully strong grip when she wasn't in large amounts of pain. He could literally hear his bones cracking. The time seemed to pass and not pass at the same time. At some point he looked up and realized hours had passed when it seemed both only moments and an eternity. Then came the cry for her to push, and time seemed to warp again. Jo sqeezd his hand even tighter, and he cried out as one of his fingers broke. This was crazy, nobody's had was ever _actually_ broken while standing next to their wife in labor.

There was a baby crying. "It's a boy!" Christine said, smiling widely. She had been informed about their bet earlier and knew that Pavel would choose the first name, and Jo the middle. "Do you want to hold your son?" She handed him to Joanna, and she was crying too, tears of joy.

 **"Welcome to the world, Nikolay."** Pavel whispered, feeling his every dream come true.

"Nikolay Hikaru Chekov." Jo whispered softly. "It's perfect, Pav. _He's_ perfect."

Pavel laughed a watery laugh. "I told you eet vould be a boy." He paused, feeling his hand still pulsing with pain. "Ees zhis a bed time to mention zhat I em preety sure my hand ees broken?"

Christine laughed. "Everyone says that. No one's hand is ever actually—" She paused as she stared at his hand. "Jeus Christ, Jo, you've got a strong grip."

Doctor McCoy didn't look particularly surprised. "I'll get the regenerator."

"Sorry." Jo said sheepishly, but suddenly Nikolay cooed. "Yes, I know, Mommy's pretty strong. Daddy's gonna be okay though." She said sweetly, cradling her tiny son.

Pavel hesitated. "Can I hold him before I get healed?"

"Who do you think I am?" Doctor McCoy scoffed. "Of course you can."

 **"Your son is crying again."** Jo muttered into his ear. It was two am, and as usual, Nikolay had woken up in the middle of the night screaming. He was four months old now, and the two of them loved him to pieces.

Pavel groaned, and turned to look at her through sleep-filled eyes. " **Ai, can't he give me one full night? Just once?"** He complained, dragging himself out of bed. The colder air hit him at once, and he shivered slightly as the cool ship air hit his bare chest. Nikolay cried again, louder. **"Yes, I know, Daddy's coming."**

When he reached Nikolay's room, he paused. They had been given one of the special suites for familes on the Enterprise, with a small room that served as a nursery. It wasn't painted, they weren't allowed to paint their quarters, but in the center was the cradle Scotty had made for little Nik. Just as Jo had predicted, it was shaped like the Enterprise.

"Shh, shh, ees okay, Daddy's here." he whispered in English as he picked him up. Nikolay's cries began to lessen already, soothed by the presence of his father. When he continued to whimper, however, he began to wrack his brain for Russian lullabys that his mother had sung to him when he was a child. Eventually one came to him. It was traditional, but he'd always liked it.

 **"Sleep, my beautiful good boy, Bayushki bayu, quietly the moon is looking into your cradle. I will tell you fairy tales and sing you little songs, but you must slumber, with your little eyes closed, Bayushki bayu."** He knew there were more verses, but he couldn't recall them, so he simply sang on repeat until he realized that Nikolay was sleeping soundly in his arms.

"Bayushki bayu? I've never heard that before." Said his wife from behind him. He hadn't noticed her coming in.

"Ees an expression for lulling a baby to sleep." He said softly, and continued humming the lilting memory, remembering his mother singing this song to him. "My mozher used to sing eet to me. I cen't remember zhe other verses."

Jo smiled softly as he gently placed Nikolay back in his cradle. "I've never heard you sing before."

He raised an eyebrow. "Eef so, eet ees because I cennot sing."

"I thought you sounded good." She said in a soft voice, leaning forward to kiss him gently. "I should make you the official lullaby-singer."

"Hmm." He said, leaning close to close the kiss. After breaking away, he smiled. "I'd like to hear you sing, too."

Jo smirked. "Good luck." She spoke slightly too loudly, and Nikolay woke up with a soft cry. She blushed, and stepped away as he went to pick him up again. "Sorry. I'll go back to bed."

"Eet's okay." He reassured her, before humming the melody of the lullaby again. After humming through the short song once, he began to sing again. **"Sleep, my beautiful good boy, Bayushki bayu…"**

Joanna McCoy-Chekov smiled as she watched her husband carrying their son on her shoulders, sprinting down the hall, producing shrieks of delight. "DO IT AGAIN! AGAIN!" Nik squealed with glee. He was nearly two years old now. He was a small boy that took strongly after his father, with his thin figure, mop of curly golden hair and bright green eyes. However, he had his mother's nose and smile, and he was already exhibiting his photographic memory, just like Jo.

He was also already able to speak whole conversations in fairly complex complete sentences in both English and Russian, and it was clear he'd be smarter even than Pavel. "Are you sure? I'm getting a little tired." Pav panted, trying to catch his breath.

Nik grabbed his father's hair and pulled it like one would a pair of reins on a horse. "Yes. Go, Daddy! You're my noblered steed, we need to save the queen!"

"Who's the queen?" Asked the boy's father.

Nikolay giggled. "Mommy. There's a dragon that's gonna eat her!"

"Dragon?" Jo laughed from her end of the hallway.

He nodded firmly, still holding his father's hair in his hands. Most children his age would still have fairly chubby cheeks, but he was thin and surprisingly strong for a toddler. "Uncle Jim's the dragon." He squeaked suddenly. "Go, daddy! He's right behind her!"

Jo spun around to see that Jim was, indeed, right behind her. "RRROOOOAAARRR!" He said loudly, pretending to pounce on her. Jo laughed, and fought him off. She heard the squeals of her son's rapid approach, and turned just in time to see him dive off Pavel's back and into Jim's arms. "Oh, no! The brave knight is slaying me!" Cried the captain, somehow succeeding in keeping the laugh from his voice.

"BAM! BAM! I killeded you, Uncle Jim." Nikolay said, excitement in his voice. Suddenly, he stopped and stopped pretending to attack his 'uncle.' "You can putting me down now, the game's over." He said in a serious voice.

Jim raised an eyebrow, but set the small child down. He instantly went to his mother and placed his hand in hers. "Whatever you say, Nik. Anyway, I just wanted to update you three on our arrival time. We're two hours out, so I'll need you on the bridge, Chekov. As for you, Nik, in a little bit you'll be able to see it from the observation deck."

Nik's eyes widened. "You mean Earth?"

"Yes, Nikky." Jo said fondly, tousling her son's hair. "We'll be home soon."

He frowned, looking confused about something. Pav turned to go with Jim to the bridge, and Jo was going to lead the two of them back to their quarters to get him a nap before the chaos of their return, when he finally spoke in a small voice that had none of the childish confidence they were used to hearing. "But isn't the Enterprise our home?"

All three adults stopped in their tracks. They looked at the little boy, and slowly Jo remembered that he'd been born in space. To him, Earth would never really be home, just like how Jim was happier in the black than on-planet. The Enterprise was his whole world, and important enough that it had somehow been his first word, and it had been pronounced correctly to boot (Monty had been thrilled). He wasn't thinking of Earth as their home, but another exciting planet that they'd circle for a bit and then leave again.

"The Enterprise is our second home." Jo said gently, sqeezing the small hand in her own. She noted how he'd always been remarkably steady on his feet. He acted like a toddler twice his actual age. "She's important to us, and we'll always come back eventually, but Earth is where we really belong."

"Oh." He said softly. "So we're not leaving forever?"

Pavel laughed and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "No. I promise." At this, Nikolay relaxed. He already knew that his father would never break a promise on purpose. He'd see the Enterprise again.

Jo dragged him gently down the hall, allowing Pav to get to the bridge and do his job. She had to finish packing their things and give Nik a bath and let Nik see Earth from a distance, all in two hours. Not to mention she'd been hoping to get him to take a nap. She had her work cut out for her. Any one of those things could take two hours, let alone all at once.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Wake up, it's Christmas! You said we'd open presents as soon as I woke up, so I woke up at five! I even let you sleep in! Mommy, Mommy! Aren't you proud I let you sleep in? Aren't you?" Nikolay, now an excited five and a half year old, was literally bouncng on top of his parents to wake them up. They weren't especially thrilled.

 **"Go away before I get up and smack you around the head."** Pavel groaned. When he was mostly asleep, he tended to speak in Russian. Speaking in English required too much mental concentration at this ungodly hour.

Nik frowned. **"But I waited! I was good! You said to let you sleep in, and I did. I let you sleep in for two whole hours."**

"What? You woke up at three?" Jo said, sounding very muddled and confused.

"Yup!" He said cheerfully, climbing off his parents. "And I waited, so now we can open presents."

His parents, now unfortunately awake, dragged themselves out of bed, grumbling the whole way. "Not until your father's had his coffee, and _you've_ eaten some breakfast. Then you can open your stocking, but the rest will wait until everyone else comes over." Jo said firmly, gently pushing her son out of the room. Pavel grabbed a shirt and pulled in on before walking out with them, his golden hair messy from sleep.

"Do I have to wait? I want to open them _now!_ " Nikolay protested, tugging on her arm.

Joanna scowled. "Nikolay Hikaru Chekov, you will wait! Presents are not the only reason Christmas exists!" He'd been just as excited last year, too, but now that he was bigger, his bouncing was more painful. The year before that, they'd told him that he wouldn't be back on the Enterprise until he was seven or eight. He'd been so upset he hadn't spoken to them for a week. He didn't realize that they wanted to get back in space, too.

Nik's face fell. "I know. I'm sorry, Mommy."

Jo felt her anger soften. Damn that child, she could never stay angry for long. "It's okay, Nikky. Let's get something to eat while Daddy gets coffee."

Pavel snorted from behind them. He was thirty-seven, while Jo was only thirty, but they appeared to be almost the same age. He still had a youth to his face, and Jo had always appeared older than she was. "Daddy needs lots end lots of coffee. He ees wery tired." After so many years, his accent was still strong. Jo knew he could reduce it if he really wished, but it was so much a part of him that he never would. Nik, having known both languages from a young age, was accent-free in both, except when he was very angry or upset.

After coffee, breakfast, a stocking opening, another breakfast as they were hungry again, and a watching of a Christmas movie, the guests began to arrive. First was Leonard McCoy, whose dark hair was beginning to be streaked with grey, holding several boxes in his arms. "Grandpa Bones!" Nikolay squealed. As his only grandparent, he held a special place in the child's heart.

After that came 'Uncle' Jim, who picked up the boy with a wild cry after setting down his gifts, Monty, who came empty-handed (supposedly), Christine Chapel, who Nikky considered his grandmother and told her so, Kaiyo, who he considered an aunt, and finally Spock and Uhura. They were his godparents and visited frequently, and the couple absolutely adored him.

Then came a grand party of present-opening. Nik got the most, of course, but no one minded. When they were all together, it seemed as though they were back on the Enterprise, and not on Earth for another two and a half years before what they'd been told would be the lady's last mission before her retirement. After that, Jim would get the new version which was already being made.

After presents they had lunch, which consisted mainly of Christmas cookies, and then they talked and reminisced on the 'good days' back on the Enterprise, including sharing their favorite pranks or embarrassing things that had happened. Occasionally Nikolay would interrupt with some memory he had of his first two years of life, surprising them all. It had become increasingly clear that Nik had a practically eidetic memory, and he also seemed to remember a large amount of things from when he was very, very young.

Eventually, Kaiyo mentioned a funny story about Hikaru from when he was a boy, and then they spoke about the elder Sulu, all his quirks and his funny sayings, and Jo talked about the time he'd had to wear a dress for several days (Kai, who'd never heard the story, found it hilarious). It had been over seven years since Hikaru Sulu's death, but the pain of losing their friend was still fresh in the guests' hearts.

Nikolay, of course, didn't understand why everyone was so sad. Sulu had died a full two years before his parents had even been married. All he knew was that Christmas wasn't supposed to be sad. So, he quickly devised a plan to distract them from the man who he was partially named after. It involved the homemade presents he'd made for all of them.

"Mommy, Daddy, I gotta get something real quick." He ran away with agility surprising for a five-year-old. His parents watched him in confusion.

He vaguely heard Uncle Jim say "Well, Chekov, he can certainly run like you." Nik was pleased, he wanted to be just like his Daddy when he grew up.

A moment later he ran out, holding an armful of… something. "Mommy, this is for you." He handed her a box made out of paper (he'd gotten into origami, and he was pretty good for such a young kid). Joanna opened it, and gasped. Inside was an origami rose made out of red paper. There was a message written on the inside of the lid in fairly neat, but childish, handwriting. _You're the prettiest mommy ever. Love Nikky._ The simplicity of the message made tears come to her eyes.

"Thank you, Nikolay." She said, giving her son a hug.

Pavel got a piece of interesting wood shaped like a duck that Nik had painted to finish the effect. He got a card reading _Merry Christmas. I found the duck in the backyard. His name is Richard. Love Nikky._

Spock a complicated origami Vulcan head with a card that read _This took me twenty-five tries to make. I hope you like it. Yours, Nikolay._

Uhura got a message written over and over in several different languages: _Could you teach me more languages? I really like them. Love Nikolay._ Uhura assured him that he would be able to learn as many languages as he wanted when he was over, much to the boy's delight.

For Christine he simply made a card painstakingly colored with pictures of nurses and needles. _I don't like going to the doctor's,_ it said, _but I like you. Love Nik._ Everyone thought this was hilarious.

For Scotty (who he called Uncle Monty) he included a holopic of the tiny robot he'd made. _I got it working eventually! See, I_ do _listen! Love Nik._ Scotty found this hilarious, as he often jokingly accused Nikolay of not listening when describing robotics or engineering.

He gave 'Grandpa Bones' a holopic he'd found him and Jo when she was only three. It was before the divorce, but Jocelyn wasn't in the picture. _I made a copy of this when Mommy wasn't looking. I love you, Grandpa. Nikky._ Bones had to disguise his tears.

For Jim there was a large colored picture of the Enterprise with all of them in front, their names written underneath. On top it read _For hanging up when you go home, love Nik._ This touched Jim greatly, for he knew the boy meant when he finally went aboard the Enterprise again.

For Kaiyo he made three origami cranes. One was slightly larger than the second, and the third was very small. They had no card.

"Why did you make three?" She asked him, confused.

He blushed shyly. "This one's you—" he pointed to the middle-sized one. "this one's me—" he pointed to the small one. "And this one's your brother that you talk about all the time, the one I'm named after. I noticed you're sad because he's gone, so I made him a crane so he wouldn't be gone anymore."

Kaiyo stared at him in amazement, and hugged him tightly. "Thank you." She said in a tearful voice. "I love them."

 **"Now, remember, everyone else is much, much older than you, but you mustn't let that stop you from doing well. You probably won't make many friends—"**

"Pavel!" Jo interrupted harshly.

 **"—but that doesn't mean no one likes you. Remember, you are five years younger than most of the rest of the people in your class. Cadets don't like to see thirteen year olds doing better than them. Just focus on finding one person who will take care of you, okay? Just one."** Pavel lectured nervously, using Russian to make sure he didn't stumble over his words as much.

"Pav, you're scaring him." Jo chastised, rolling her eyes. "He knows how to kill a man in twenty different ways, he'll be fine."

"Twenty-one, actually." Nikolay piped up. He was thirteen, the minimun acceptance age at the Academy, and about to head off to school. They'd been beamed back to Earth from their mission on the Enterprise to send him off. They still had eight months of their mission left.

Chekov nodded, still feeling nervous. He knew how unfriendly Cadets could be to young teenagers who were scared out of their wits. "Zhat may be true, but eef you feel too lonely, or eef you are too scared een ze shuttle training—"

" _Dad._ " Nik complained. He'd inherited his mother's fear of the shuttles, though not to the same degree. "I doubt anyone's going to try to kill me like that one guy did to Mom. Besides, I can control my fear better than she can."

His mother scowled at him. " _You_ haven't been in a broken and burning one."

Pavel interrupted again. They only had five more minutes before Nik had to leave, and they went back to the Enterprise. **"Don't drink too much."**

 **"How do you know that I drink vodka?"** Nikolay said, stunned.

Pavel rolled his eyes, and laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "You are my son, end you are helf Russian, helf McCoy. I had my first drink vhen I vas leetle, your mother too. I em no fool."

The boy blushed. "I won't. I promise."

"Damn Russian genes, makin' him drink _vodka,_ not bourbon like a sensible person _._ I thought I raised you better." Joanna complained, shaking her head at the injustice. "Now I'm outnumbered two to one."

Pavel put his arm around his wife. "Do not worry, ve'll not make you dreenk eet weeth us." He said with a chuckle.

"Damn right, you won't, not if you want to avoid sleeping on the couch." She countered.

Nikolay groaned. "Mom, Dad, I've got to go soon. Can you save your alchohol quarrels for later?"

Both sobered instantly. His mother leaned down and kissed his forehead tenderly. **"You'll be amazing, Nikky. My beautiful little boy."** When she pulled away from him, tears were in her eyes. They'd never been separated from him like this before.

His father hugged him. When he opened his mouth, he sang the little lullaby he'd been rocked to sleep with his entire life. It was soothing on Nikolay's nerves, and he felt himself melting into his father's arms. **"Sleep, my beautiful good boy, Bayushki bayu, quietly the moon is looking into your cradle. I will tell you fairy tales and sing you little songs, but you must slumber, with your little eyes closed, Bayushki bayu."**

There was nothing else to be said. Nik looked at them, smiling through his teary eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." His mother said. His father said nothing, but the lullaby he'd sung was enough.

"Goodbye." He said softly as they stepped on the platform to be beamed away. After they vanished, he turned to the woman who was to escort him to the Academy.

As he walked away, he sang his father's lullaby to himself. **"Sleep, my beautiful good boy, Bayushki bayu…"**

 ** _The End_**

 **Hey, guys, Author here for the last time on this story!**

 **Wow. What a journey. It seems only yesterday I came up with the idea, and now I have written 83, 877 words on 197 Word pages.**

 ***sniff* I really got attached to little Nikolay after only one epilogue. I could write a whole story about him, but I won't. Sorry. And if I do, I won't post it.**

 **Anyway, thank you SO SO SO SO SO SO much for giving me the encouragement and feedback I needed to continue and help make my story better. I read every single review, and they warm my heart, so THANKS. I love you guys so much.**

 **Thank you again for joining me on Jo's journey to a happily ever after.**

 **Love,**

 **Trellya Sigma**


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